Carillonneur
by Zizak-Tel
Summary: Son of an ornk-herder, Dakro was selected for study to become one of the elite, a Shaper. When disaster struck, Dakro found himself stranded, surrounded by forbidden secrets and those who would master them. Danger lurked in every corner, yet no danger was as great as the one which lurked in his own heart.
1. Prologue

Preface

The world of Geneforge is, of course, the property of Jeff Vogel and Spiderweb Software. I am deeply grateful that this game series was created and for the hours of enjoyment that I have had playing these games. I have attempted to weave the five games into a cohesive story, and throughout there will be other characters who are met more than once besides Alwin, Greta, and Litalia (although these three will not be seen until the third tale in the saga).

I view all of the games in this series as a morality tale. The first Geneforge is a tale of testing of character and ethics. This particular episode in the saga is a rather introspective tale, which provides a bit of a challenge to bring it to the page (or screen, as the case may be). What follows here is the story of how one person responds to the unexpected testing of character-a testing which pits the needs of survival, true character, and the deepest urges of the heart against each other.

I have chosen to tell the tale of a young Shaper (that is, a Shaper proper, not a Guardian nor an Agent). Due to the fact that I do not plan to tell a Guardian's tale in this series, I am using the default name for the Guardian for this Shaper.

For those who have not played the games, I urge you to consider them. These games have perhaps the greatest depth of any CRPG, where the moral dilemmas are between shades of gray, not between the forces of pure good and pure evil.

It is my hope that the telling provides a compelling reason behind the "what" of the events that happened. I hope you enjoy the story that follows.

* * *

Prologue

"There is time for one more," said Acarya. "Dakro, take the baton."

Dakro closed his eyes, wishing that he had not been chosen. Unable to put off the moment of reckoning, he picked up the baton. Aiming toward the stuffed target at the far end of the field, Dakro fired the baton. Suddenly from the sidelines, there was a cry of pain from Shusuke, the class leader in thorn targeting.

"Put the baton down, immediately!" ordered Acarya, rushing to Shusuke's side. "Incompetent little ... to my office, at once, Dakro."

Hanging his head, Dakro started for the offices, trying to ignore the jeers from some classmates and the voices of concern about Shusuke's condition. _I hate those batons! They never fit right ... like they've a mind of their own!_

Hours passed, Dakro pacing unhappily in the office. Acarya entered. "Shaper Simrat wishes to see you. To the library now. Follow me, and don't drag your feet."

Head bowed, Dakro followed down the long hallway into the darkened library. At the far end of the room, sitting on a seat flanked by two serviles was Shaper Simrat himself. Two battle alphas moved to close the door as Acarya and Dakro came into the room.

"It was an accident!" The words flew from Dakro's lips before he even thought. "I'm s-"

"Silence." Simrat raised one hand. "Apologies are not the way of the Shaper."

Dakro felt the words die in his throat as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of what Shaper Simrat had just said, while prudence told him that no one was to utter a sound after a Shaper requested silence.

"Shaper Simrat," said Acarya, making his obeisance, "the boy Shusuke has been maimed by Dakro's-"

"Your incompetence as a teacher aside," said Simrat, "it may be unfortunate that this Sushuke is injured, but I am sure that he will recover." He made a negligent gesture of dismissal. "I wished to see Dakro on another matter entirely."

"Shusuke's arm may need to be amputated," protested Acarya. "This boy must be punished."

"It is not for an Outsider to tell me what to do," said Simrat. "Sushuke is of no importance."

"Shusuke is the school's best student!"

"You are insolent!" Simrat made a gesture. "Perhaps three days will teach you some proper manners. Em, take that man to the punishment cells."

The battle alpha on the left of the door stepped toward Acarya, whose face whitened as the alpha put manacles upon his wrists.

"I meant no ... I am sorry!" sputtered Acarya.

"Four times a day, Em. The usual number each time," said Simrat. As Acarya was dragged from the room, Simrat seemed not to hear the cries of terror from the instructor. "Now, Dakro, to business. You, as the rest of your classmates, had an interview with Mind Tabbart. I have reviewed these interviews, and your application is approved. You will be reporting to the Greenwood Academy in the Ashen Isles."

 _Application? What application? All the Mind did was hum at me._ Dakro thought furiously, trying to make sense of the words of the Shaper who ruled the region. "Where are-"

"Don't worry about that." Simrat gave another negligent wave, and a servile slouched forward. "A drayk will transport you."

The servile slouched toward Dakro, making an obeisance toward the youth, concluding by offering a folded robe to Dakro.

"Now, we will be going to my home for dinner," said Simrat, as the two serviles bowed and scurried away. "You are, of course, merely a prospective at the present." He smiled as Dakro continued to hold the folded robe. "Put it on."

Dakro unfolded the robe, seeing the Shaper symbol embroidered in a paler blue than the robe itself, buttons formed of crystals carved into the Shaper symbol. Shaking it out, he obeyed Simrat's instructions, his mind still reeling as he buttoned the robe.

"There are some minor instructions that I shall give you before your departure. A few things that your status now entitles you to learn." A quirk of the lips, and Simrat raised his voice to speak to the remaining battle alpha. "Ell, find this Shukey boy and have him brought to my audience chamber."

The alpha lumbered from the room, and Simrat rose from his seat, gesturing for Dakro to accompany him. Dakro began following at two paces behind, and Simrat gestured again for Dakro to walk beside the ruling Shaper. Clad now in the Shaper robes, Dakro left the school with Simrat. His former classmates stared, then bowed as the Shapers passed. An excited murmur "Dakro's a Shaper" rose as the two departed the school grounds.

 _I am a Shaper_ , he thought, _and now I will go and make the folk of my village proud._

Dinner at Simrat's had been sweet. Sweeter still, attending in Simrat's audience chamber, a second chair added for Dakro to be seated next to Simrat. Supplicants came, asking for various favors or judgments in disputes. Then Shusuke was brought forward, his arm in a sling with the blisters oozing through the fabric.

"Tell me," said Simrat. "Can any baton bear the load of an acid thorn?"

"No, Shaper," said Shusuke, sweat beading on his face. "The acid thorn irritates any baton except those bred for the acid thorn."

"What happens when a baton is irritated?"

"It ... it may be ... it" Shusuke gave Dakro a pleading look.

"What happens when a baton is irritated?" The tone of Simrat's voice had changed from the amusement to a quiet chill.

"It will not fire true to the wish of its wielder," said Shusuke, dropping to prostrate hiimself. "Please, Shaper, I am sorry. I knew I would be first to choose the baton in the exercises, and I ... I wanted ... I could not have the best score unless I ..."

"Cheated." The word dropped flat against the silence.

"Yes, Shaper, oh gods, please, have mercy," said Shusuke.

"Take him to the punishment cells also," said Simrat, gesturing at Shusuke. "The usual number, twice a day."

Shusuke appeared too stunned to do anything but mutely follow to his punishment.

"It is to your credit," said Simrat, "that you were able to complete your assignments in most cases even after that boy stole your work. Don't look so surprised. I have created my servant mind especially to help me assess the abilities of the youth in my district, and such assessments go far deeper than Acarya ever cared to look."

"What will happen to him after ..."

"He is unfit to be a teacher," replied Simrat with a shrug. "He, and that Shukey thug, shall spend a few years working in the Purity Workshop."

Dakro knew there was no reason to ask what they would be doing after that-humans were lucky to survive a few months of such punishment. Serviles had been especially bred to breathe the caustic air and never left the workshop under any circumstances as the sweet air outside the workshop was as poisonous to them as within would be to Acarya and Shusuke.

"Disrespect to a Shaper is never to be tolerated," said Simrat. "That is a lesson you are to be learning. Don't misunderstand-your training at Greenwood Academy will be very hard, and you will no doubt be beaten often. Anyone unwilling to bend to discipline is unfit to wield the power of the Shapers."

"I understand."

"And no, we will not observe the punishments being carried out," continued Simrat. "A Shaper gives an order, it is carried out. Observing would imply that I questioned the obedience of my creations."

"What happens to creations that diso-"

"They are absorbed. A rogue cannot be permitted."

Dakro spent a few days with Simrat, reading introductory texts before the banquet which included his parents before his departure. Of all the magical sects, the Shapers were the oldest, the most respected, and most secretive and powerful. Alone, they had the power to magically create life from nothing but the raw materials and pure magic, molding life to serve their purpose-from light housework to major warfare. While every year, the Shapers went from village to village to test the acumen of the youth, they guarded their secrets very closely. To attempt to learn their techniques without permission was to court speedy death-by a Guardian's blade by day or the work of an Agent in the night. Now, though, by permission Dakro would learn these techniques and become one of their number. It would be a long apprenticeship, years to be spent on a remote island, watching the work and aiding in research, subject to the rigorous discipline which weeded out the unfit.

At last, he reached the true starting point-a journey which was to be two weeks long while traveling upon a living craft, a specially modified creature named a drayk. Dakro had been journeying for a week when he passed close to a small chain of islands. Consulting his charts, he noted one of them had been colored black and labeled "Barred" with the name Sucia just visible when he tried to peer through the back of the parchment. While he still knew little of the secrets of the Shapers, the introductory texts had taught Dakro that the Shapers declared places Barred for a variety or reasons: experiments gone wrong, dangerous accidents, valuable secrets. Whatever the reason, having been within a Barred area was to be punished with instant death. Curious, though, Dakro stood at the edge of his drayk, carefully looking to the shores of Sucia Island, wondering for which reason Sucia had joined the ranks of Barred places.

Dakro's attention to the island caused him to fail to notice the sailing ship dead ahead of him, coming from the southeast of the island. The drayk cried out an alarm, alerting him to the danger. It was a strange ship, of a style Dakro had never seen before, and he did not recognize the weapon on its prow. It fired a long spear at Dakro's drayk, the razor-sharp bolt striking his craft in the neck. Dakro's drayk reared in anger and breathed a bolt of fire at the attacker, striking the sails, setting them alight.

The battle had taken only seconds. The drayk foundered, mortally wounded. Dakro's goods sank to the depths, and he began to struggle with an attempt to swim to the shore. The urgency of his own situation caused Dakro to fail to notice the extreme difficulty of the other ship. His strength was not enough. Bound by the weight of those Shaper robes he had donned with such eagerness, he began to sink, feeling the weight of a dread certainty that his life would be over before it had begun, anonymous drowning, his body perhaps never to be found.

With one last effort, the drayk assisted him. Bleeding from its neck, rapidly dying, it managed to lift him with its head and carry him to a crumbling dock. Then it died, the dead bulk sinking away, leaving Dakro alone-abandoned-on the forbidden shore of Sucia Island. He coughed, vomited sea water, and crawled to more solid ground.


	2. Chapter 1

Fatigue and shock left Dakro motionless where he had first collapsed on the stony dock, weighed down by the sodden robes he wore. A gentle breeze blew through the air, as he tried to forget the disaster which had befallen him. Regaining just enough of his senses to look around, Dakro raised his head.

In one sense, he knew exactly where he was: on the southern coast of the island he had seen before his craft was slain. In a more profound sense, he knew nothing, apart from the fact that this isle was declared Barred by the law of the Shapers. Except for the lapping of the waves on the base of the dock, all was quiet. The structure he could see was ruined and crumbling, as though abandoned for a century, or even longer.

 _At least I'm not going to be devoured ... yet. But I'm still stranded._ Dakro tried not to think of the horrible failed experiments that must have caused an entire island to become barred. He struggled to his feet, following the beach to the east along the wall of an old building. A tunnel to the north led into what could only be a storeroom, so close to the docks as it was.

Exhausted, hoping for something to help him out of his current predicament, Dakro trudged inside. Ancient crystals flared into light in recognition of his approach. Long tables, mostly covered with trash, but he spied a tunic that seemed serviceable. Taking the time to set up his robes for drying, Dakro stripped out of his soaked clothing, pulling on the dry tunic. Barefoot, dressed in a tunic barely long enough for modesty, Dakro started around the room in hopes of finding anything to solve just one of the problems he faced-cold, hungry, his supplies lost to the bottom of the sea, stranded upon an island that he could not admit to having set foot upon.

One door to a side chamber recognized his approach, the door opening to reveal in the half-light from the crystals in the main chamber, several cylindrical containers, canisters standing about knee high, sides composed of a thick, carefully blown glass. Most were broken, the glass shattered on the floor with the thin metal supporting the rim of the once lid. Contents of these were long lost, but one cylinder remained intact. Inside, there was a glowing fluid, which swirled and moved about, seemingly under its own power, looking like it might be-in its own way-alive.

 _Probably is alive_ , Dakro reflected. He had never seen anything quite like this, but he knew how the Shapers could contain fluids filled with life energy which healed or energized those in need, pods. For a moment he thought of the pods that Simrat had given him for the journey. _It must be something like those pods ... but bigger. Like a portable pool._ A small section of fragile glass was at the top, as though to permit the palm of a hand to push through it so that the substance within might come forth and energize. Weakened from his swim, it was unbearably enticing. Without conscious thought, Dakro had already reached out and put his hand on the fragile spot, pushing through to the fluid within the canister.

He stumbled back, still feeling a bit woozy. The sensation was not caused by hunger, but by the effects of the strange substance in the canister. The stuff had not revived or healed him as he had expected; it had changed him. It felt as though the substance had soaked into his skin and rewrote some of his very being. _What has happened to me?_ Even as Dakro wondered how to explain the sensation-it had not made him warm, dry, or less hungry-he stretched his fingers wide and noticed a tiny trail of flame following where his fingertips had been. _I can work magic!_ he thought, knowing this was something new, for his training wouldn't have reached that point for years.

It was exhilarating, and at the same time, terrifying. This was completely unknown magic, alien to him. _It is the work of Shapers, but Simrat never mentioned anything like this would be possible!_ Deep within, he found a desire growing-to discover more of these canisters, and what wonders they might perform for him.

He gathered up some of the trash, using his new-found power to set fire to the trash, warming his chilled body. As the fire warmed him, he continued methodically searching through the rooms-trash to add to his fire, a box of papers which crumbled beneath his fingers, but beneath the dust there was an old key which had not deteriorated like everything else. There were no more of the canisters, and Dakro could not shake a sense of disappointment. A few javelins, a handful of coins. Not knowing what immediate use the coins were, he took them anyway, and the javelins made him feel a little less frightened.

 _What would Simrat do? Useless question-Simrat could make something to get off this island, but I don't know how to do that. And I just want to get off this island and get to the Academy. And I'm not going to do that, sitting around in here!_

The last of the trash had burned away as he found a bound book, its essence-infused pages having preserved it, the sort of journal that a Shaper might use to record experiments. Dakro caressed the smooth hide, some scaly beast had been created just for the purpose of becoming the binding of the book he held, and he paged through, finding that the pages within were blank although it looked as though a section of pages had been torn out. His clothes were now merely damp, not dripping, as Dakro pulled on his trousers and squelching, wet boots and then the damp robe that Simrat had given him. This warehouse having yielded all of its secrets, he walked back to the sunlight, through the wild land encroaching upon the once-ordered area.

Singing birds of a sort that he was sure had not been shaped could be heard as he pushed through the wild land, finding another building. This one contained row upon row of beds, the frames still standing, but the bed within was gone. Dakro was not certain if there were some sort of strange scavenger, or perhaps just hungry rodents, but sifting through debris yielded a living key, and the living key opened his way into a locked room which was filled with the musty odor of disuse, but also a handful of crystals which felt cool beneath his fingers, and more javelins, and a pack with which he could contain his growing collection of things to replace those things he had lost.

Overhead, the sun had risen to its apex in the sky as Dakro pushed his way through the wild overgrowth, wishing that perhaps he could have found a sword instead of javelins, so that he might more easily clear his way, when suddenly the number of paths left a clear way ahead of him to another building. There was no mistaking this one-a large, low building which, decayed as it was, still had a crumbling roasting pit in the center of the large room, and a hallway leading away where smaller rooms might be found.

Dakro felt confused. _Why is there so much here? Simrat told me most islands are Barred because of experiments gone awry, and most such experiments are performed by very small groups, in crude quarters, far from society. Yet ... a warehouse, guardposts ... and now an inn. At one point, a lot of Shapers lived here. And now they are gone. Why? What could have driven so many people off? And what took their place?_

* * *

Dipping the quill he had found into the inkpot, Dakro began to write in the journal.

 _4 Ahaw 3 K'ank'in_

 _I have been driven to land on the shore of this island. All I truly know is that I am not supposed to be here. Will I be driven out of the Shapers before I have even started? To have come so close to tasting the sweetness and remain forever an Outsider? I must escape, and hope that I am somehow able to keep anyone from knowing I have broken the law._

 _How true it is, today is an ill-omened day._

* * *

Leaving the inn, continuing into the wilderness to the north, Dakro was startled to hear the lowing of ornks. He had been worried about horrible creatures on this island, and yet the first life he encountered was nowhere near as terrifying as his imagination had supplied-a flock of ornks. He laughed with relief, for ornks were a Shaper creation most noted for their slow, clumsy gait and abundance of meat for size. Shapers created them to stock areas unfriendly to non-created animals, as apparently, this area must be. He noted the large tusks, perhaps added by Shapers to protect the ornk from predators, but as a son of an ornk-herder, Dakro also knew that they were likely to leave him alone if he left them alone. _And a jolt of that flame I can use will turn them back quick, if not._

Dakro made his way past the ornks, finding a secured storeroom. _Someone must have planned on returning,_ he thought as he gathered up more of the cool-to-touch crystals and thorns. Simrat's words came back to him " _you will find the batons behave better for you when they have not been angered by misloading-simple thorns to simple thorn batons, acid thorns should only have been in a specialized baton bred for such loads_." He put these things into the pouches of the belt he had scavenged.

Rather exhausted yet, Dakro closed the doors of this barracks, built himself a new fire from the trash, and curled up to sleep as the lowing ornks outside allowed him to dream for a moment that he had not gotten stranded on a forbidden island by himself, but rather of the glories that would be his upon his graduation. He awoke, uncertain how much time had passed-it was daylight still or daylight again, he was initially uncertain, but then he became quite certain that the whole night had passed. Mundane hunger started to touch him, and he set out again. In the undergrowth, he came across a skeleton wearing a weathered, yet still recognizable Shaper robe. He paused, exchanging his squelching wet boots for the dry boots of the skeleton.

Undergrowth faded away, leaving a broad entrance to a shaping hall. Here, the Shapers on the island had done their work, using magic and force of will to make creations-both established and experimental designs. If there had been a cataclysm, though, it had not taken place here, for the building was undamaged. To the sides, Dakro saw alcoves containing energizing pools, holes in the ceiling allowing light to shine on them, and they had survived despite years of neglect.

In the corners, he saw two glowing glass canisters like the one he had seen before, waiting ... ready to give him power, calling silently to him. Unable to resist their lure, Dakro made his way to first one canister, and then the other, head thrown back with pleasure as he felt them make mysterious changes within him. Then, standing beside an essence pool, he began to think, the compulsion to create something, some sort of companion to relieve his loneliness, became overwhelming.

Concentrating, as he had seen Simrat do in a demonstration for him, Dakro made the motions, and out of nothingness appeared a fyora-a red lizard-like creature with green spots, often used as guards, but for now, Dakro smiled, as he was no longer alone. The thought that he would not have been able to create such a thing until near the end of his apprenticeship was fast retreating to the far recesses of his mind.

"Come," he said, and the new creature obediently began trotting along at his heels as he continued through the wild lands overtaking the remnants of a Shaper community.

Finding his way around the impenetrable growth blocking the road, he was startled to see another fyora blocking the path. At first glance, it did not look that different from his own creation, for fyoras were a standard design, used as bodyguards, watchdogs-even pets by Shapers for centuries.

This one, however, had a strange look in its eyes. It gazed upon Dakro without the servility and obedience which he would have expected, did not look upon him as Master, as did the one at his heels-no, **this** fyora seemed to be looking upon him as ... food.

 _Simrat said without a Shaper to guide them, creations could go rogue_ , thought Dakro, though such events were more the stuff of legend, for Shapers would instantly absorb a creation which failed to obey. The fyora ahead of him, however, had most definitely shed Shaper control, baring its teeth as though daring him to move forward, a sibilant sound emerging from between its teeth.

This seemed to be enough for the fyora Dakro had created, and it shot a burst of flame toward the rogue fyora, and a brief battle ensued, and in the wake of this fight, the rogue lay dead upon the ground.

"Good boy," said Dakro, patting his fyora on a shoulder, for a fyora walked on two legs, and he began to think that perhaps he should name his creation, though no name seemed to immediately occur to him.

Together with the fyora, they continued through the crumbling buildings, finding and slaying more of the rogue fyora, before coming to what had been a storage warehouse.

 _Well, I guess it still is a warehouse_ , thought Dakro, surveying the moldering trash that the once-useful supplies had become. Sacks of meal in the corner had most definitely not been treated well by their years here, but then he noted a thorn baton which appeared to still be alive. When unused, thorn batons went into some sort of hibernation, and while most of the batons stored here had died, this one was still alive, and Dakro took it and some thorns, checking carefully to make sure that the baton and its thorns were suited to each other.

Gaining courage with his new faithful companion at his heels, Dakro continued his explorations, finding at last a building with a stone obelisk in front of it. Still discernable through the moss were the words "Quarantine Hall". More letters were beneath this, but the letters were faded, barely more than the suggestion that they had once existed. Within, Dakro found a book on a stand, he was certain that it was meant to be a ledger of those who had come and gone, but the pages crumbled to dust at his touch, leaving behind only the scaled leather of its cover. Once, he knew, people wishing to enter or leave Sucia Island had waited to be questioned and inspected by the servant mind-a specialized and useful creature which never moved after being grown, living in a special stone crib, thinking, remembering, analyzing, and advising the Shapers.

Dakro and his fyora moved through the hall, and sure enough, found the mind still here, resting to the north. Amazing! he thought, as he realized the creation was still alive, struggling to rouse itself from slumber as he approached.

Unsure how its faculties might have been affected, Dakro carefully came closer.

"Welcome, Shaper," said the servant mind, using the centuries-old script. "I am Mind Tavit. Do you wish to pass through the quarantine?"

"Are you all right?" said Dakro. "You have been here a long time."

"I am still functioning properly," replied Tavit. "I can do what I was made to do."

"You don't mind waiting so long, alone?" said Dakro.

"I am not made to have other thoughts," replied Tavit. "I am eager to assist you, Shaper. Do you wish to pass through the quarantine?"

"What happened to this island?" said Dakro hoping for some answers, though he doubted that the servant mind was sufficiently advanced. "Why was it Barred?"

"I am sorry, Shaper," replied Tavit. "I am limited in the scope of my knowledge. When I was left here, I was given no further information or instructions."

"How long has it been since someone came through here?" asked Dakro.

"You are the first since I was abandoned," replied Tavit.

"How long ago was that?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. I have spent all of that time in hibernation. The decay in my internal organs indicates that the time was well over a century," replied Tavit. "I am sorry that I cannot be more precise."

"Why was Sucia Island abandoned?" asked Dakro.

"I do not know. I know a little of its purpose, but nothing of why I was left here for so long," replied Tavit.

"So what was the purpose of this island?" said Dakro, hungry for information.

"Research," replied Tavit.

Dakro felt a surge of disgust, for such an answer was not particularly illuminating, as he could have guessed as much without even talking to the servant mind. "All right, what do I have to do to pass through quarantine?" he asked, with resignation-if there were answers, he would have to go elsewhere.

"Allow me to inspect you carefully. If I judge that you have no threatening infections or concealed rogue creations, I will unseal the door to the north so that you may pass," replied Tavit.

"Very well," said Dakro. "Please allow me to pass through quarantine."

Tavit looked at him carefully, and made a low, soft humming noise. Although Dakro felt nothing, he suspected some sort of magical augmentation was allowing the creature to analyze him in minute detail, as he remembered that 'interview' he had had with Mind Tabbart. Eventually, the noise stopped.

Tavit said, "I find no reason to impede your progress further. The exit door will open at your approach."

"That's all I need from you," said Dakro.

"Thank you, Shaper," said Tavit. "I will rest and conserve my energy now."

A name came to him. Dakro turned to his fyora and said, "I shall call you Fido. Come, Fido."

With that, Dakro turned and left the servant mind in its cradle, and made his way to the doors that had not opened at his approach earlier. Sure enough, this time the door opened. On this side of the quarantine hall, he saw another flock of ornks, but this time they were not alone-they were being watched over by a servile.

Serviles were one of the greatest Shaper creations. They are the most common and valued servants of the Shaper people-intelligent, hardy, obedient, and featuring hands with opposable thumbs. They were also quite easily controlled.

 _If there are serviles here, this isle must be nowhere near as savage and uncontrolled as I feared. Serviles are weak and easily cowed creatures,_ thought Dakro. _If there were any real threat here, they would have been quickly wiped out._

Dakro's emergence from this hall was clearly the last thing this servile expected. He looked terrified at first, then curious. He left his flock behind, approaching to come speak with Dakro.

 _He probably wants fresh instructions_ , thought Dakro.

The servile moved very close to Dakro, and inspected him carefully. Dakro likewise returned scrutiny, seeing that the servile looked fairly familiar with the same hunched posture, number of limbs and so on. But again, the expression in the face was different. The servile seemed surprised to see Dakro, and did not have the attitude of immediate obedience that Dakro expected.

After a few awkward seconds of staring, the servile spoke. "I don't think I'm mad. It's a Shaper! A Shaper has come at last! Oh, it has been years, years, since anyone has come through that door. A Shaper has come! This is so wonderful," he said. "Oh, but where are my manners. I am Timo. I am a shepherd. I graze my ornks here because nobody comes here. Oh, I must go to Vakkiri. I must tell the people there that a Shaper has come at last!"

"Tell me about Vakkiri," said Dakro, trying to figure out the attitude of this servile.

"It is our humble village," said Timo, pointing east. "It is that way, not far, not far; I should tell them a Shaper has come at last. It is humble and small, but with no Shapers around, we did what we could."

"There are no other Shapers here?" said Dakro.

Timo looked even more nervous now. "I ... I do not ... No. You are the only one. You are the Shaper. You have returned, and we ... we can serve." Oddly, Timo seemed somewhat reticent about saying that last word.

 _How do I respond?_ thought Dakro, _for I am barely an apprentice, just starting my training, even if those marvelous canisters did so much for me ... but ... I need them. I cannot let the serviles know I need them and that all I want is to get off this island_. Summoning up the hauteur he had observed in Simrat, Dakro finally said, "That's right. You will serve, or be disciplined harshly."

Before, Timo had merely looked nervous-now he looked terrified. "Of course," he said meekly, "of course we will serve. The might of the Shapers must always be obeyed."

"Very well," said Dakro. "Come, Fido, we will go to this Vakkiri."

Timo turned and fled, leaving the ornks behind to bring the news of Dakro's arrival to Vakkiri. More slowly, in a manner befitting the Shapers, Dakro and his fyora Fido made their way along the ruined road.


	3. Chapter 2

Even the slow stroll meant that little time passed before Dakro and Fido entered Vakkiri. Rounding the corner of the rock outcroppings, he met, for the first time, a colony of serviles on Sucia Island. There was a great deal of astonishment on both sides.

 _The creatures seem to have done well on their own, much better than I would've suspected_ , thought Dakro, looking over the community, seeing little that distinguished it from the village he had left, save for the fact that there were no other humans present. The serviles had moved into the Shaper ruins, and made them their own-with crops, shops, and guard patrols.

For their part, the serviles were speechless, clearly without Shaper influence for many years, and they had no idea how to react. Expressions were mingled: overjoyed, relieved, and terrified at the same time. Most of all, however they looked expectant, watching Dakro and his fyora carefully, gauging their every move, wondering how he would treat them. The power of the Shapers had always completely overwhelmed that of their creations.

 _Of course, I don't have the full power of the Shapers_ , thought Dakro, as he attempted to keep striding, despite the fact that he was weak and tired-untrained and alone. _Good thing they don't know that._

A servile guard with a dented old sword bowed, and said, "Greetings, Shaper. How may I assist you?"

"What are you guarding against?" said Dakro, finding himself utterly shocked to find an armed servile.

"Rogue creatures are common to the north," replied the guard. "We never know when one may stumble into Vakkiri and need to be dealt with."

"I require more information about this situation," said Dakro. "Where may I find such?"

"You should speak with Leader Khobar," replied the guard. "In the feasting hall." He gestured to a building in the southeast of the community.

"Thank you, that will be all," said Dakro.

Moving into the feasting hall, Dakro saw a servile who was unusually muscular, _looks as though one had somehow crossed a servile with a thahd, though why one would do such, I do not understand_. Despite himself, Dakro registered surprise at the physique of this servile.

"Greetings, Shaper. I am Blade Brodus," said this servile. "I defend the serviles here from **all** threats. If you mean us peace, I welcome you on behalf of myself and the Awakened."

"You defend against all threats?" said Dakro, catching the unusual emphasis. "Even me?"

"I do not believe you wish to threaten us. I am not some Taker, to believe that the Shapers are always evil," replied Brodus. "But be warned, if you threaten us, your powers will not dissuade us from acting against you."

 _How bizarre! To think a servile would speak to a Shaper that way!_ thought Dakro, and he said, "You said that you are Awakened? Tell me about this."

"I should not. I believe it with all my heart, but that doesn't mean that I am a good teacher of it," replied Brodus. He thought, and added, "Talk to Sencia. She is the best among us at explaining the path."

"And what does this mean," said Dakro, "that you are a Blade?"

"It means that I defend the serviles here from all threats. I am the leader of the guard, and the first to fight. And, with all the threats we have faced recently, I am kept very busy," replied Brodus.

"And what sort of threats do you face?" asked Dakro.

"There are the rogue creations. They are all around. They appeared recently, mysteriously, and they plague us. Leader Khobar can tell you more about them, if you are interested," said Brodus. "There are also the bandits. They are extra weight in a load too heavy to bear."

"I can help you with your struggles," said Dakro, trying for the air of hauteur he had observed in Simrat during the audiences.

"We hoped that, when you Shapers returned, you could help us. But do not think that your help will make us willingly return to servitude. There is a tribe of rogue servile bandits to the north. They are strong fighters, and cunning. They raid us and take our food and weapons and wealth. They do not kill, but they take our food. This, we do not need," said Brodus. "End their raids. If you have to kill them all to do it, so much the better. I can't spare the casualties, but you have the powers of a Shaper. You should be able to destroy them with no difficulties."

"That's all for now," said Dakro. "I wish to find this Khobar."

Dakro, trailed by Fido, continued within the building to find what seemed to be a feasting hall, and there saw a servile tending a fire and food. The servile here was dressed in the traditional manner of serviles-long robes modeled after those of the Shapers, but those robes were spattered with varying ages of stains of foodstuffs.

"I am Inerny," she said. "Welcome to my kitchen. You look hungry."

"What do you serviles eat?" said Dakro, remembering he had not eaten since sometime before landing on the island, and he was, indeed, growing hungry, the more so as the essence pods Simrat had provided him had fallen to the bottom of the sea.

"What does anyone eat? Mostly vegetables, grown here and foraged, some bread, some meat from the ornks we raise. And all of it raised or found by us, with no Shaper help," said Inerny, and then she paused, looking at Dakro before adding apologetically, "Sorry. Didn't mean to give you the Awakened lecture there." Then she laughed.

This behavior puzzled Dakro, and he commented mildly, "You look like you're hard at work."

"Oh yes. I don't cook for all the serviles. But I cook for all who haven't been mated. And that is enough to keep my days very busy," replied Inerny. "It would be much easier if my best knife hadn't been stolen. It was true steel, hardened by magic, a true Shaper artifact. I would pay well to have it back. But, oh well. A brigand probably took it."

"As it happens," said Dakro, "I am hungry. Could I get some food?"

"We here believe in fair trades," said Inerny, "coin for food. Two for some meat, two for some bread."

Dakro felt a surge of anger, and checked it. Grudgingly, he handed over four of the coins scavenged from the ruins before, and took some bread and meat. _What has happened here?_ he thought _, that a servile would dare to treat a Shaper as ... an equal?_

Taking bread and meat, he formed a sandwich and ate, quieting the discomfort of hunger. With the worst of the hunger appeased, Dakro and Fido moved on, ready to meet the leader of this community. _Perhaps here I will find out the answers to all these questions which plague me,_ thought Dakro. _And most importantly, that I find some way off this island before it is discovered that I have been on the Barred Island._

Dakro saw a servile, seemingly no different than other serviles, but upon closer examination, he realized that the servile did not have the usual attitude of fear or respect. For a long moment, Shaper and servile looked at each other, sizing each other up.

Khobar made a short, sharp bow, his eyes never leaving Dakro's. "Welcome to our home. I am Leader Khobar, proud Awakened, and the chosen leader of the tribe of Vakkiri," he said, putting an unusual stress on the word 'leader' ... at least, unusual for a servile in reference to a servile. "It is a pleasure to have the Shapers among us again at last."

 _He certainly doesn't sound enthusiastic about a Shaper being here_ , thought Dakro, discerning a falsehood in the words of the servile. "Tell me more of your village," he said.

Khobar said, "After the Shapers abandoned us, we serviles struggled for survival. Most were unable to live without your guidance. Some of us were selected by cruel nature to be allowed to survive. We have formed three villages that I know of."

 _Perhaps this is the explanation for their behavior ... they blame the Shapers leaving for their troubles,_ thought Dakro. _But who are they to question the ways of the Shapers? Still, perhaps it was unwise to leave them in such a manner, with no guidance_. He said, "You do not know of all the settlements on this island?"

"To the north is a harsh wasteland, full of rogue clawbugs and vlish. There, we do not go. To the northeast are mountains, well-protected by Shaper creations and traps. Beyond, we cannot go," replied Khobar. "In those places, you might find anything."

"Indeed," said Dakro. "And these other villages of which you spoke?"

"To the east, there is Pentil. They are a feckless, servile lot. You will like them," said Khobar, sounding disdainful. "Past Pentil is Kazg. You may wish to avoid them. They are very martial, and they have little love for Shapers. They hate you, and even more, they are terrified of you. A volatile combination."

"Intriguing," said Dakro. "I wish to learn more of this island. When and why was it abandoned?"

"I deal with the now and the future. I leave it to others to worry about that past," said Khobar. "You should talk to Learned Pinner." He pointed to the northwest. "She loves your kind more than is safe. She will gladly share all of her limited knowledge with you."

"Very well, I shall do that," said Dakro. "Now, there is something I have heard a small amount of which I do not understand. You said that you are Awakened. Tell me more about that."

"All of us serviles have developed our own ways and beliefs to deal with the Shapers abandoning us. There are three sects: the Awakened, the Obeyers, and the Takers. All in this village are of the Awakened sect. We have been Awakened from the dark sleep of Shaper mastery. Our eyes are open. We wish to deal with the Shapers as equals, with friendship and gratitude, but we will not be slaves to you any longer. Be wary. If you anger the Awakened, this town will no longer be open to you."

 _Can it be that much a surprise, that they should start developing a culture ... perhaps there is something to this_ , thought Dakro. "It sounds like a strange new belief," he said. "There may be wisdom in it. I would know more of these other groups."

Khobar looked, despite his efforts at appearing impressive, relieved at Dakro's reaction, and said, "I am glad to hear it. We had expected instant opposition from your kind. But if we can convince you, there may be hope for peace. The Obeyers are the ones who wish to follow. They are the ones who still worship your kind as gods. You will find them to the east, as obedient and pliable as you could possibly wish. We are not fond of them. The Takers-they are the mad ones, the Takers of the Free. They have been warped by the cruelty of their time here. They were made by the Shapers, and now they wish to overthrow them. They wish to separate from the Shapers completely, and if the Shapers attempt to deal with them, they wish for combat. They are mad. We have no worship for the Shapers, but we do not hate them either. We wish to be equal, that is all."

"And what dangers do you face in this village of yours?" asked Dakro.

"Hunger. Cold. Rogue creations. All of the many perils you Shapers abandoned us to," replied Khobar, sounding almost accusatory before he stopped, and a calculating expression came over his face. "But you know something? We serviles are not as foolish as you think. We can plan, and we can trade. I can't help but notice that you are lacking in supplies. If you would use some of your awesome Shaper power to aid us instead of crush us, I could provide you with useful goods. A fair trade. Does that appeal to you?"

"Perhaps," said Dakro, finding himself startled that the servile had so clearly picked up on the weakness of the Shaper who had come to the island. "What do you want?"

"The main road to the east passes south of Watchhill. It is the road to the fortress of Ellrah, leader of the Awakened. And recently, almost overnight, the area has become infested with rogues," said Khobar. "We suspect that someone or something is creating them. There are too many to be accounted for with random migration. Go there and remove the source, and we will pay you."

"I wish to leave this island, and I require a boat," said Dakro. "Where may I find one?"

"I would like to help you, Shaper. But we are a trading people, and we require your help as well," replied Khobar.

"Then perhaps," said Dakro, "you might know something of who would do such a thing, to use a large ship to destroy my drayk?"

"I do not know. I can't believe that anyone would attack a Shaper in such an open and foolish way. Only a mad one would attract the wrath of the Shapers," said Khobar. "In this, I wish I could help you. Such provocations cannot be good for anyone. Not even the wild serviles of Kazg would do such a thing, I suspect. I do not think you will find the answer to that question here."

"Then I thank you for your time," said Dakro. _I should not like them, they are rogues, every last one of them, it seems. Yet, somehow, I cannot help but ... I like their spirit, for without it, they surely could not have survived such terrible odds as those they faced. Simrat would've destroyed them in an instant, I'm sure, but Simrat probably wouldn't have even found them, he'd just have made a new drayk and continued with none the wiser._ "I would like to speak with this Pinner, and perhaps others of your village. There are questions I have which perhaps they may shed light upon."

Dakro turned, and gestured to his fyora, and left the feasting hall. As he continued, he saw a servile woman looking up at him with interest, her expression devoid of the usual awe and fear. Dakro shook himself, as he thought, _She looks at me as though I were naught but another servile. How very bizarre this is!_

"I am Sencia. Sencia of the Awakened," she said. "I welcome you to our humble home, Shaper. All of us of Vakkiri live in these old buildings. Many of us live in these barracks, and others-those of rank and stature, live in the private homes. I, however, choose to live here. I like to be close to my fellow serviles."

"I have heard your name," said Dakro. "You serviles speak very well. Who taught you to speak like that?"

Sencia looked slightly offended, and said, "Who taught us? We did. After the Shapers left our isle, we knew how they spoke, and we started to speak that way ourselves. We know that Shapers think very little of us. That is why I became one of the Awakened. Some of us, though, do not speak as well, and do not have such aspirations."

"Who doesn't speak so well?" said Dakro.

"Clakkit," replied Sencia. "Do not give too much weight to what Clakkit says, or how he speaks. He is, well, he is one of us ... But he is foolish, and he speaks foolishness. Do not judge me worse because of him."

 _Clakkit? Another whom I shall have to find and speak with_ , thought Dakro, and he remembered that Sencia had been spoken of as one who could explain this bizarre servile belief known as being Awakened. "Tell me more about this business of the Awakened," he said.

"We are a sect of serviles, led by the mighty Elhlrah, who believe that serviles must stand up for ourselves, be proud, claim our intelligence and our birthright, and look to you Shapers as equals," said Sencia. "We know that many of you Shapers will not approve of this. We will take the consequences for this. If you would learn more, speak with Ellhrah."

"Always, one says I must speak with another," said Dakro, "rather than answering the questions put. Tell me about Ellhrah, then."

"He is the founder of the Awakened. He is our creator. He is old now, and he was the first one to stand up and tell us that we should look out for ourselves. He said that you Shapers have abandoned us, and that made us free," said Sencia. "You should speak with him. He lives to the east, in the fortress past Watchhill."

"And what is it that you do for this village?" said Dakro.

"Ellhrah asked me to stay here and look after the serviles here, to guide them. They are of the Awakened, but sometimes they return to their weak, old, Shaper-worshipping ways," said Sencia. "Usually, it is simple, but sometimes there are difficulties."

"Are you having difficulties now?" said Dakro.

"I suspect that there is a Taker spy in this village. The Takers are a dangerous rogue sect to the east, determined to foment rebellion against the Shapers. An ugly, pointless war," said Sencia. "Sometimes, they attempt to stir up trouble here. If you found the spy and brought him to my attention, the Awakened would thank you."

"I shall remember that," said Dakro. "Come, Fido."

Pondering what he had learned thus far, he began making his way to the place pointed as the learned one's dwelling, and stopped at a building with a new sign declaring it to be an apothecary. Unable to imagine serviles successfully brewing up potions, he stepped inside.

Inside was a servile wearing a robe which had been heavily stained, and even dissolved in some places, surrounded by the tools used to make potions and powders. _Such magical workings are for Shapers alone! How can a servile do this?_ thought Dakro.

The servile, seemingly unworried and unashamed to be caught in this trade by a Shaper, bowed to Dakro and said, "Welcome, Shaper. Welcome at last. I am Ham. Welcome to my home."

"You make potions?" said Dakro. "How is this?"

"Well, I am glad you asked. When you Shapers left, you left behind many things. This was long ago. We have had many years to study your writings and artifacts," said Ham. "We had no choice. It was a matter of survival, after all."

"Where do you find these artifacts?" said Dakro.

"Why they were all over," replied Ham. He pointed to a box in the corner and said, "I found that in some ruins recently, but I can't get the lock open. We Awakened believe in fair trades. If you can find a way to get the box open, I would pay you for your time. I am sure you could use more supplies."

"Perhaps I will look into the matter," said Dakro, "some other time."

Striding out of the apothecary, he returned to his path. _It certainly won't do for me to act like I'm too eager to help them ... that would be a servile's way, and I must not forget that I am a Shaper, even if I am ill-equipped for the difficulties of this place._

Dakro moved on, to a building which he immediately recognized as the ruins of an old Shaper hall, where creations were once made for the various needs of the Shapers. Here, he met a very old servile, the oldest he had ever seen. Serviles were made to live for a very long time, but this one was near a record-stooped and withered, probably well beyond a hundred.

At the sight of Dakro, the servile looked overwhelmed with emotion. With a trembling voice, she said, "Welcome, Shaper. I am Learned Pinner. Welcome to my home. Welcome back at last."

"Why do you have the word 'Learned' before your name?" said Dakro.

"It is a mark of respect for my people. I have been alive for many, many years, and I know much history," replied Pinner. "I will share it with you if you want. Your kind has been away for very long."

"Yes, I would like that," said Dakro. "Why is Sucia Island Barred? Why was it abandoned?"

"We do not know. Your kind left two centuries behind. They left behind us serviles. They did not tell us why they left," replied Pinner. "I have an idea though, of where you might get a clue of why the isle was abandoned."

"Tell me more," said Dakro. "Where should I look?"

"To the north of here, there is a large ruin. I think it was once a school, where your kind learned their arts. Such a place would have had a servant mind, and that mind might have been told more of why Sucia was abandoned," replied Pinner. "Go there and see if you can learn anything from the servant mind. Be careful, though. There are rogue creations in there. If there weren't, I could have gone and looked myself."

"That is useful," said Dakro. "So who lives on this island now?"

"We serviles occupy most of this island now. Our history is not an interesting one. We live, we grow crops. It took many years and many great losses before we learned how to live for ourselves. But we managed," said Pinner, looking grateful for Dakro's approval, and yet also proud of the accomplishments which she related. "Lately, though, we have been joined by many rogue creations. We don't know where they came from, but they make our lives very difficult and dangerous. Still, we survive."

"I have found some strange artifacts on this island," said Dakro. "Do you know anything about them?"

"I think you mean the canisters? The large glass cylinders with the glowing matter inside? I have some fragments in my back room. They were made by the Shapers here before they left," said Pinner.

"What are they for? I've never seen one exactly like that before," said Dakro.

"We know that the Shapers made them here on this island," replied Pinner. "We serviles do not use them. To do so kills us instantly. We tend to fear your Shaper creations. We don't do anything with them."

"I have used one," said Dakro, lightly gliding over the fact that he had used more than one. "It changed me, made me more powerful. Are they dangerous?"

"I do not know. I see nothing unusual about you," said Pinner. "If you use more of them, I can look at you and see if I see a change."

"I require a boat to escape from this island," said Dakro. "Do you know where I might find one?"

"You should find and speak with Leader Khobar. If anyone here would know of that, he would," replied Pinner.

"I have, and he was not particularly helpful," said Dakro. "That's all for now, then."

Dakro turned, mulling over what he had learned thus far. The serviles seemed to be doing extraordinarily well without Shapers, and it occurred to him that perhaps they should not have been made quite so intelligent. _A Master Shaper would certainly put this matter to rights quickly,_ thought Dakro, _for they are nothing but rogues ... perhaps a little friendlier than one might expect, but rogues nonetheless. Still, I am no Master, and I have need of them, so I shall not anger them and find myself bested by a bunch of mere creations who will then gain an even greater audacity._

As he continued, looking through the village, he came to a house with a very quiet and nervous servile lurking, looking quite terrified.

In a quavering voice, the servile said, "Hello. I am Strout."

"What do you do in this village?" said Dakro.

"I raise ornks," replied Strout.

Finding this did not explain the demeanor of the servile, Dakro said, "And why are you so nervous?"

"You ... you are Shaper," said Strout. "We are all afraid. We are afraid of how you will control us. Some show it less, but we are all afraid." She clamped her mouth shut, as though ashamed of having said quite so much.

"At present, I do not wish to control you," said Dakro. "I need know more of this island, and should not interfere before I have seen it as it is."

"We are glad to hear that, but we'll believe it when we have seen it," said Strout.

The anger surged again, A servile dares speak back to a Shaper! I will take matters into my hands when I have gained more, for such things should not be, thought Dakro. "Very well," he said, and turned and left the house to continue his examination of the village.

As he continued, he came into a clearing which looked like some sort of meeting area, and one which had been heavily used in recent times. There was a small servile girl here, with a stick in her hand, watching over a few fat ornks.

She looked up at Dakro curiously as he neared, seemingly utterly unaware of who or what he was. "Hello, stranger," she said. "I am Lietz."

"And are you watching this ornks?" said Dakro.

"Yes, they keep me back here so that I don't play too close to where the monsters are," said Lietz. "And they make me watch the ornks so I don't get bored." One of the ornks began to stray from the group, and she whacked it with a stick. The ornk made an annoyed mooing noise and shuffled back toward the others of its kind.

"Do you know who I am?" said Dakro.

She frowned, and said, "Hmmm. I don't know. But I haven't had much learning yet. I'm sorry."

"I am a Shaper," said Dakro. "My people made your people."

Lietz looked confused, and said, "Oh. That was very nice of you."

"We Shapers see and know everything," said Dakro, annoyed that she wasn't properly impressed.

Suddenly, Lietz looked nervous and worried, and said, "That's really ... uhh ... interesting."

"I'm looking for a stolen knife," said Dakro. "Do you have it?"

She thought, and said, "I don't know. You can see everything, though, so you should know. I have to look after my ornks. Sorry." Clearly edgy, she moved away quickly.

"Lietz, I don't think you are being honest with me," said Dakro. "But perhaps ... the knife was not stolen, just lost, and I will find it on the ground any moment now."

He moved to look studiously away for a moment, and when he turned to look back, Lietz was still watching her ornks, but a steel dagger lay on the ground. Dakro picked it up, and left the grounds.

 _Wily creature, but she will serve better now that I have shown mercy_ , thought Dakro, and he made his way back to Inerny.

"I've found your dagger," he said casually, holding it out in the manner proper for handing over a sharp blade.

Inerny took the dagger eagerly, and said, "Thank you, Shaper! I am surprised that you should be so kind. Many of us had our doubts. If you ever need food, come to me, and I will sell it to you cheaper than anyone else."

"I shall remember that," said Dakro.

He continued his examination of the village, and came to another home occupied by a servile which surprised him. _I had never imagined it possible, that a servile should be so overweight,_ he thought. _I suppose this is what comes of allowing the serviles to fend for themselves without someone to make sure that they are staying sufficiently busy._

The servile truly filled out her robes, and she bowed, and Dakro noticed that she was wearing several gold rings on her fingers and a necklace around her neck, as though they had also managed to develop some sort of class standing.

"Welcome, Shaper," she said. "I am called Dreet of Vakkiri, recently of Pentil."

"You are from Pentil?" said Dakro, hoping to hear more of this other community.

"Up until recently. Then I came here. I wished to join the Awakened. I was tired of the serviles of Pentil and their Obeyer gibberish," replied Dreet. "We were made to serve, but we will do so no longer."

"You do not wish to serve," said Dakro, "so why are you still called serviles?"

"It was a difficult decision. It is our name. We did not know whether we should keep it. Finally, we did. It reminds us of who we are and where we came from," said Dreet. "But we on this isle? We will not be servants again."

"Tell me about the Obeyers," said Dakro.

"They believe that you Shapers are their true masters and that, to be happy, they must follow and obey you in all things. I came here to claim fealty to the Awakened," said Dreet. "We believe that we must rise and face you Shapers as equals. We know that there is risk in this path, but we also know that it is what we must do."

"You belong to the Awakened now?" said Dakro, disappointed that he would not hear of the Obeyers from one who believed in that way, rather than one who considered them an embarrassment.

"Yes," said Dreet. "If you wish to learn more of the Awakened, find Sencia."

"I have already spoken with her," said Dakro. "Are you wealthy?"

"What is wealth?" said Dreet. "None of us serviles are truly wealthy. All we have is what we can scavenge and what we can grow. But in the sense that I have more goods to trade for the things that I want, I suppose I am wealthy."

"What sort of things do you own?" said Dakro.

Dreet pointed to a door, and said, "Well, there is an artifact back there that we serviles cannot use. It would kill us. But I suspect it may be of use to you. For three hundred gold, I would unlock the door for you."

"I am here to help protect you from all the rogue creations about," said Dakro. "All of your wealth means nothing if this town were to be overrun. You should help me help you."

Dreet thought on Dakro's words, and then walked over to the door, pressing a concealed button there. "I can see your point," she said. "The door will open for you now."

"Very good," said Dakro, and he moved over to the door, which did indeed open.

Within this room, there was a variety of trash, but against the back wall was another canister like those Dakro had seen before. Knowing now that it would have some sort of unusual effect, he stepped over, placing his hand upon the thin palm-print place on the top of the canister.

Leaving the room, his fyora still obediently trotting behind him, Dakro said, "It was useful indeed. Thank you for keeping it safe for me."

With that, he left the home of Dreet, and came into what looked like a shop of all sorts of things. Dakro had seen expressions of greed and cunning in the eyes of humans before, but found himself quite unnerved to see the same expression of entrepreneurial zeal in the eyes of a servile.

Walking up to Dakro eagerly, the servile said, "Welcome, Shaper. I am Coale. Welcome to my trading post. I exchange goods with sentient beings all over Sucia Isle."

"I have never met a servile shopkeeper before," said Dakro, still trying to puzzle out his feelings on the matter. _Sentient beings? More than serviles? Imagine if there are thahds that are not just dumb brutes! There is so much strange on this island, and that would be a strangeness, too._

"Well, in the absence of the Shapers, we have had to fend for ourselves. And that means growing and making what we need to survive. And that means trade," said Coale. "I deal in both servile-made goods and Shaper artifacts. I know nothing about why the Shapers left us but, thankfully, they left much behind."

"So you trade with the other settlements on Sucia?" said Dakro.

"Yes, I had contacts in Pentil and even Kazg. But there have been many rogue creations wandering about. So I have lost contact with them," said Coale. "If you ever meet serviles named Pixley and Arth, or find out what happened to them, please let me know. I have plenty of supplies, and I gladly pay for useful information."

"I would like to see if there are supplies which are of use to me," said Dakro.

After searching through the supplies, Dakro finally left, and continued his examination of the village. There had been so much that had been unexpected, and he wanted to think the matter through before he committed himself to action beyond the bounds of the village. The weight of being the first Shaper that these rogues had had contact with ... he wondered if he would be able to bring them under his will as a Master could do.

Finally, he found another home, tucked away in an easy-to-miss nook between trees, and within, a small, pale servile who appeared to not have left his home in some time, though he was quite neat and quiet.

"Welcome, Shaper," he said. "I am Nabb. I have been waiting for you to come see me."

"What are you doing back here?" said Dakro.

"I have been waiting for you to come back here and see me. I am giving much and risking much to speak with you and say what I have to say. I act without instructions from my sect because I believe it is worth the risk," said Nabb. "I am of the Takers. I am a spy here, from the village of Kazg. I have come to see what the Awakened are doing. I tell you this because we wish your alliance."

Dakro said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow. _So this is the spy ... and certainly the Takers do not sound like a group I should treat as anything more than mere rogues._

Nabb continued, "Now, I only wait to see what you will do. I will risk my life to remain here and see if you can help the Takers. Do not listen to the lies of the Awakened and the Obeyers. Do not throw your lot in with them until you have been to Kazg and seen truth."

"Tell me about the Takers, then," said Dakro.

"The Awakened here are on the right track, but we feel that there is no hope of true freedom and happiness for the servile race until we totally shed the influence of your kind," said Nabb. "We will accept the support of your kind, though one day we must leave you behind. We hope you will help us. With you and our other allies, we may break free of the Shaper fist. We will do anything to bring this about."

 _Is he mad? Are they all mad? Does he not realize that I am a Shaper? Why should I help them, when I am sure all I should get for my troubles is a knife in my back or my throat slit whilst I sleep,_ thought Dakro, _but who are these other allies?_ Deciding it was safe enough to reveal this query, Dakro said, "Who are your other allies?"

"I am forbidden to say. I can't say anything about it. If I do, I will be punished harshly," said Nabb. "Suffice it to say that there are powerful forces on this isle, and we are linked with them. Forces that may make even the Shapers tremble. Join us, help us, and you may share in those powers, too."

"I shall keep that in mind," said Dakro.

He walked out of Nabb's house, thinking about all that he had learned thus far. Without much thought in the matter, his steps took him back to the meeting house where he had encountered Sencia. _Denouncing a rogue to a rogue, what a strange thought,_ he mused. _Still, these Taker rogues seem to be far more dangerous than the Awakened rogues. I shall have to meet with the Obeyers to see how rogue they have become, as well._

Finding Sencia, he was surprised when the servile said, "Greetings. What other business have you here, Shaper?"

"I have found your spy," said Dakro. "It is Nabb."

"I knew it," said Sencia, breath let out with a hiss. "And no doubt, he has fled the town by now. Thank you for letting me know. Ellhrah will appreciate your aid." She reached up to place a hand on Dakro's shoulder, and said, "In the name of the Awakened, I thank you. We will remember this."

"Very well," said Dakro, "that's all."

Dakro made his way back to the house of Nabb, finding that indeed, the servile had departed, and it was quite evident from the disarray that he had packed in a hurry before leaving. Deciding that this was as good a place as any, Dakro barred the door, told Fido to guard the entry, and settled onto the bed, mulling over all that he had encountered, scratching more notes into his new notebook.


	4. Chapter 3

5 Imix' 4 K'ank'in

In a situation like this, it is all the more important that I keep my thoughts organized. None can question that these serviles are entirely rogue, with such bizarre notions as being the equals of Shapers and demanding payment for those things which they ought give to me, a Shaper, who has need of them. But I do not have the power to deal with them as they ought to be dealt with, and so for now I must placate them while trying to get the information I need to get away from this island without being overly encouraging to their bizarre notions.

It seems that this village is bounded on one side by the docks and quarantine hall, where there are a few rogues, just a few fyora, and so not overly dangerous. They describe the area north of here as a wasteland inhabited by rogues. I can only assume that this means that it is much more dangerous in that direction. To the east, they say, there is in the center serviles whose behavior is more appropriate. Of course, that remains to be seen, since these rogues may not have true understanding of proper servile behavior, but beyond, it is described as even worse rogues, serviles who have decided to not merely be rogue but to be rebellious, to plan the demise of Shapers. This cannot be allowed to flourish, but I shall have to be careful, for my powers are ... well, minor, at the best. Truth be told, I am barely even qualified to be addressed as Shaper, but a Shaper is who I am and will become.

* * *

 _'The school, if it is indeed such, would have a servant mind, and perhaps the mind would have been told enough to help me,'_ reflected Dakro. _'And that it may also allow me deal with the bandits that worry the serviles of Vakkiri, well that is a bonus.'_

With those thoughts in mind, Dakro took Fido and they left Vakkiri to the north. Barely had they passed the bounds of the village than he saw a sign declaring it to be the land of Ghurk, with a toll of ten coins. _'Nervy,'_ thought Dakro. _'I certainly don't intend to pay a servile for merely walking through a space. The idea that they would ask a Shaper to do such ... absurd!'_

As he continued, an aging servile, left bent and scarred by his years fending for himself in these woods, approached. He was trying to hide his fear, but it was still clear to Dakro. Even a long, harsh life could not erase the inbred terror of serviles toward Shapers.

The servile spoke, and said, "Welcome to our woods, Shaper. Though you are of your lofty race, you still must pay the toll to pass. Ten coins, or you must return the way you came."

"Why do you live out here in the woods?" said Dakro, pondering his options. _I am not strong enough, I don't think, that my flame could kill in an instant, but I can perhaps use that fear and increase it._

"It is what we choose. We find that life is easier if we live out here and take food from Vakkiri. It is less work than toiling in the fields growing it," said Ghurk. "It is a lifestyle we developed ourselves, after much thought and reading of it in old Shaper tomes. We believe it is called 'banditry'. We may be the first servile bandits. We are proud."

 _'How far rogue can a servile go? This is unthinkable!'_ thought Dakro. "Vakkiri has asked me to destroy you," he said. "You had best move on."

"Where, Shaper? To the north, to certain death in the rogue wastes? Or west, into the sea? Or south to Vakkiri? Or east to death on Pentil blades?" said Ghurk. "Here we stay, we have no choice."

"Then perhaps it would be best if I use my Shaper powers," said Dakro. "It is of no import to Vakkiri what happens to you, but I can dissolve your arms and legs, and leave you to die a slow, painful death of starvation."

Ghurk looked terrified at these words, and started to back away. "I let you go, this time. But next time, you pay."

Dakro, trailed by Fido, turned to the west, where he was surprised to find the woods had been taken over by numerous rogue fyora. With lesser difficulty than he had expected, Dakro and Fido managed to dispatch each of the rogue fyora in turn. The stench of burned essence behind them, Shaper and fyora continued on their way, finding an old Shaper building. The front door had died years ago, leaving the door permanently open. Inside, there were three chests, each locked with rusty chains and a padlock, but none of them yielded to Dakro's efforts. _'Maybe if I had some tools,'_ he thought, remembering the living tools which would no doubt make short work of these locks.

Continuing through the woods, there were more rogue fyora and then a thahd. _'A thahd! Where did that come from?'_ wondered Dakro after these latest rogues had been put down. Concerned that these woods were more dangerous than he had thought, he gathered himself together, and brought forth a second fyora. "Come," he ordered, and the new fyora trotted after him just as Fido did.

Rounding the corner, Dakro was stunned to meet a servile which called back over its shoulder for help and then hit him with an old, dented sword. Unwilling to put up with that sort of treatment, Dakro used the thorn baton and ordered his fyoras to his aid.

After carefully searching through the woods, Dakro believed that he had killed off the last of these servile bandits. _'Rogues who dare raise a hand against a Shaper, I had no other choice,'_ he thought, and then he searched through the things that the bandits had taken for what might be of use to him. _And perhaps a few things to sell back to those of Vakkiri, as they are so keen on 'fairness' and making me pay for the things I need._

At last, though, he came to a great ruin, and as he contemplated whether to go in or not, a rogue fyora came lumbering out to attack him. Dispatching this one with ease, Dakro continued within.

Even thought it was built several centuries ago and had been crumbling ever since, the traditional statues at the entrance immediately told him what this building had been. These were the ruins of a Shaper training hall. Here initiates were once taught, undergoing the grueling tests and schooling necessary to master both magic and the creation of life. Though the statues were now crumbling, the Shapers depicted wore the unchanged traditional garb, holding arms out in greeting to welcome those who came to this place of knowledge.

Now, however, the school had long been abandoned by Shapers, and within there were the sounds of various snarls and growls of rogue creations left behind. _'I am sure all sorts of useful equipment-and perhaps even information on what happened on this island are here,'_ thought Dakro. _'But first to cleanse it of these rogues.'_

Moving carefully from room to room, Dakro was surprised to see that the rogue fyora had established a greater intelligence than he had suspected, scratching crude art into the walls depicting fyoras bowing to some sort of humanoid. Pushing that puzzle to the back of his mind, Dakro continued his exploration and extermination of rogue fyoras, pausing to peer around corners before committing himself, using the thorns to draw out a single fyora from a cluster and slowly picking them off.

As he continued, he found more rogue thahd, and a long-dead corpse, no longer possible to tell who or even what species the deceased had once been. Then, behind another locked door, there was yet another canister. Drawn to the canister like a moth to flame, Dakro set his hand upon the top, opening it, feeling it change him again. _'Incredible!'_ he thought, smiling as he felt stronger still than he had before.

Continuing on, Dakro came into a ruined lecture hall which smelled of dust and mildew, and something else-slightly off, but still, it was unmistakably fresh essence. The basins around the hall had once been filled with various chemicals and solutions, created, used, and destroyed by the students of the place. Now they were cracked and empty, but those to the far end of the hall were intact, and tell-tale steam rose from them.

 _'Putting essence here must have been done by someone recently,'_ thought Dakro, ' _else it would be lost like everything else here. But who ... why?'_

The vats did, indeed, contain a large quantity of essence, not that fresh, perhaps several weeks old and beginning to decay. _'Essence doesn't just happen, it must be mixed by a skilled Shaper,'_ thought Dakro. _'Yet the serviles of Vakkiri say there are no other Shapers on the isle. Whatever this stuff is doing here, it shouldn't be here at all.'_

He looked, and there was a large lump visible in the middle of the goop. Taking a nearby ladle, he prodded, and a gas billowed out and made him quite ill. Recovering himself, he went to the other vat that showed signs of relatively fresh essence. Within this one, there was a body thinly coated with the essence, poking it with the ladle, he found it stirred. It appeared to be a fyora, but horribly misshapen, as though someone tried to create it without proper materials and knowledge.

Dakro and his fyoras fought the strangely shaped one, and continued, finding the school's reservoir. Shaper installations, he knew, always had a supply of water in reserve, as the schools were designed to be closed off and quarantined in an instant. Those outside would be safe if something dangerous or virulent were created, and those within could destroy the rogue creations or die trying. This reservoir, however, was now murky, covered with thick deposits of algae.

Dakro continued his careful explorations, and finally found something that began to shed some light on the events that had taken place long ago. Time and decay had heavily damaged the tome, which he determined to be that of a teacher, and he could just discern the writings on one page.

'It has come to this. It is the end. Despite all our learning, our achievements, we are all being called away. There is some grumbling. Some students even whisper of rebellion. But it will not come to that. We will be, in the end, loyal' he read. 'Supposedly, they will let us continue our work on the mainland. We have our suspicions, though. They will not end all of this, and then let any of our teachings escape.'

"But what teachings?" said Dakro, squinting to make out further words. 'Our suspicions are correct. All of our work is to be destroyed. But of course, there will be leaks, planned and unplanned. This journal, for instance, will remain behind. Hopefully, all of the masterful techniques within will survive to ...' "Damn it all," said Dakro, as he turned the page, finding that whatever else this long-ago teacher had hoped, there were no other legible pages within the journal, as moisture had glued the pages with a growth of furred, dark mold.

He continued his explorations, finding nothing more than broken things, chewed upon things, and numerous rogue fyora and rogue thahd. Turning one corner, he recognized a guard hall with heavy stone doors and narrow passages. Another Creation Hall would be ahead, and Dakro felt a surge of excitement. In such places, students first put their hand to the Shaper arts, created life for the first time. The halls were always set up to be sealed off at a moment's notice, but here, Dakro noticed doors stuck open, walls smashed in places.

 _'This cannot be good,'_ he thought, _'but no doubt, something of why there are so many rogues in a place long abandoned might be answered here.'_

Dakro entered the Creation Hall, and found it occupied by a number of creations that showed no sign of the usual levels of obedience. One of them was an enormous thahd, with a strange-unexpected, really-level of intelligence showing in his eyes.

 _'Thahds are supposed to be stupid creatures, made for physical labor and melee combat, but this one can speak ... and even plan, it seems,'_ thought Dakro.

The thahd said, "You! Invaders! This my home now! You kill my pets! I Rawbone! We no follow you! We slay you now!"

"No creation may speak to a Shaper thus and live," said Dakro angrily.

Dakro was surprised to see that the thahds in service to the smart thahd circled past his fyora to attack him directly, but the fyora fought for him well, and soon this bizarre rogue thahd was as dead as his minions. Searching through the belongings, Dakro found a rusted key on a leather thong, and continued his exploration of a room he had been unable to unlock before, finding within one room that had not been scavenged of weapons, and another canister sat, inviting him.

Dakro could not tell what changes had been wrought in him, but he felt better than he had when first he had washed up on the shore of Sucia Island. Feeling exhilaration, he created a third fyroa, calling forth the essence in a manner now more practiced and assured. He continued exploring, until at last he found the passage that he knew would lead to the school's servant mind. Anxiously, he continued, finding the passage guarded by more rogue thahd, and even a rogue artila, who apparently did not know or care that their leader was already dead.

Dispatching these rogues, Dakro took his key and unlocked the door to the servant mind's chamber, thankful that the intelligent thahd had not been intelligent enough to master the key and lock. 'I sure hope it's alive,'thought Dakro. 'It would be a shame to have gone through all this to find it had died before I got here.'

The servant mind stirred, its long-closed mouth breaking a thick crust of dust and dried saliva. "Welcome, Shaper. I am the mind who has been named Polvarus. It has been long since I have spoken or thought. Forgive my slowness. I will attempt to wake quickly and serve you better," said the mind. "I have lost much of my knowledge. What remains is at your service."

"You are still functional?" said Dakro, surprised. "How is this possible?"

"I have endured quietly these long years, trusting in the skill of the Shapers who created me. They fed me well before they left. I should be able to live another century yet without difficulty," replied Polvarus.

"What do you eat?" said Dakro.

"The Shapers fed us a solution they crafted. They fed us long and well, and kept our powers strong. I am not hungry yet, but I know other minds on this island endured much greater exertions than I," replied Polvarus. "If you find them, you may find them to be weak and unhelpful. And even, sadly, deranged. Solution, however, may revive them."

"Where can I find some of this solution?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. I believe that all we had here was fed to me before I was sealed away," said Polvarus. "The solution can, if properly sealed, last many, many years. So you may still find some on the island, I just do not know where."

"What happened to this school?" said Dakro. "Why is it in ruins?"

"I do not know. Is the school in ruins? Nobody has visited me for so long with news of happenings elsewhere. I know little," replied Polvarus. "The last contact I had with your kind was when most of my knowledge was blocked off."

"Who did that?" said Dakro.

"A Shaper from off the island came to me. She said that the school was to be closed forever. She said that I was to forget all the marvelous things I had learned, that we had learned here," said Polvarus. "I obeyed completely, of course. Then they sealed me away. This was many years ago."

"Why was the school closed?" said Dakro.

"I think I remember being told that we on this island had discovered dangerous knowledge. But I serve. The purposes of the Shapers are not for me to question or know. Unless they wish it," said Polvarus.

"Is all of your knowledge of these matters truly gone?" said Dakro, disappointed.

"The instructions were vague, but I believe I followed them properly. I remember little now, from before my erasing. Mainly, I remember Defniel," said Polvarus.

"Who was Defniel?" asked Dakro.

"The head of teaching here. He was a great researcher as well. I think. I think that that is what I remember. He was very angry when the school was closed," replied Polvarus. "he said he would leave a journal of his findings hidden in the school. He said this would help our achievements survive. I thought it was unwise to not follow orders, but it is not my place to question a Shaper."

Afraid that he already knew the answer, Dakro said, "Where is this journal?"

"I do not know. I never saw it," replied Polvarus. "I do not even know for sure that it even existed."

"As this is a school," said Dakro, "is there any knowledge you can teach me?"

"I was instructed to forget all I learned, know, or could teach," replied Polvarus. "And any information which could not be forgotten must not be taught to anyone. I have attempted to follow these instructions as best I could."

"Do you remember nothing at all?" said Dakro.

"I think I can work some minor modif ..." said Polvarus. "I ... I cannot act in this way. It contradicts my directions."

"I was sent by the person who gave those orders," said Dakro, deciding to lie boldly, confident the servant mind would not know otherwise. "They have been canceled."

Polvarus seemed to look convinced, and said, "I cannot teach what I don't know. I was very thorough. The only modification I can give it this..."

 _'It doesn't look like it's doing anything, but ... oh, that burns! It ... no, it feels like the changes the canisters make. How is this possible?'_ thought Dakro. _'Servant minds are weak creatures, they shouldn't be able to affect a Shaper in any way. Yet ... Polvarus is changing me! I feel like I've improved my skills yet again. This island is marvelous!'_

Polvarus said, "I will now forget how to do that, since those are my orders. I am glad. It is my last knowledge."

"That's all for now, then," said Dakro, smiling. "Come," he ordered, looking to the two new fyoras he had created since leaving Vakkiri. "I shall name you Spot, and you shall be Rover. Come, Fido."

Leading his fyoras, Dakro left the school-now quieted of all the rogues, and made his way through the woods-also free of bandits, and back to Vakkiri.

"Brodus," he said, not bothering with the peculiar honorific. "We have killed quite a few of the bandits, including the one who named himself their leader."

"So you did. We sent out scouts and the bandits are in hiding. They will not be raiding us any time soon. Thank you for your help," said Brodus. "We of the Awakened believe that we should pay for our help, should deal with you as equals. So here is fair payment for this service." With that, she handed Dakro a slender wand of bone.

Dakro nodded, and left for the home of the servile named Pinner.

"I have been to the school," he said, with little other preamble. "I have used more canisters. You said you might be able to tell something by what changes?"

"Yes," said Pinner, and she inspected him closely, walking about and looking at him from all angles. She looked increasingly concerned, and then got a fragment of mirror and handed it to Dakro. "Look in this. What it means, I cannot say."

Dakro looked. _'I look stronger and more self-assured,'_ he thought. _'I have felt it, but I did not know it could be seen. It is a strange thing.'_ "I do not know the answer, either," said Dakro. "I shall have to continue the experiment. I spoke with the mind in the school. It could not be of much help, for it told me it had been instructed to forget, but it seems that it was the discovery of certain knowledge, nature unknown, which was the matter of concern."

Pinner looked thoughtful as she contemplated this revelation. "This is very strange. Usually islands are Barred because of a rogue or dangerous creation. We serviles know that much. We have lived for years in fear of what might be lurking here," she said. "But Sucia was abandoned because something was discovered. There is something powerful here, so much so that your kind thought us better abandoned. Whatever it is, it must be farther to the east. There is nothing so important around here. Thank you for your help, Shaper. What you have learned will give us a measure of peace. However, if you wish to know more about why this isle was Barred, the answers are likely elsewhere."

"Very well," said Dakro, "I shall consider that."

Dakro left, and stopped in the apothecary's shop. "I will look at the box now," he said, and found the lock sprang open easily at his touch. Inside was a simple thorn baton and a spray crystal. Confident that would be adequate payment, he slipped the crystal into his pouch. "I have gotten the box open."

"I appreciate your taking a moment to use your powers to help someone as low as me. In return, I offer you fair payment, as an equal, for your efforts," said Ham, handing Dakro a pair of flasks.

Dakro took the flasks, thinking sourly that this was poor recompense, and he was quite glad he had taken the crystal for his own bit of pay.

Striding out of the apothecary's shop, he made his way to the house he had used before, sketching out the things that he had learned, trying to draw lines that made sense of it all.

"I suppose I shall go east," he said, "it seems the most promising path. And so long as what the serviles want of me coincides with what my own designs are, I may as well profit by it."


	5. Chapter 4

Morning light had just begun to touch the village of Vakkiri as Dakro and his fyora left, traveling east. Not far from the village, the woods seemed to have an odd sound to them, a peculiar odor which Dakro was learning to associate with the rogues of the island. It was not long before he found that it was true, the woods were thoroughly infested with rogue thahds. Dispatching them, they continued along the narrow pathways amidst the trees until they stood at the entrance to an old Shaper watchpost, a burrow under a large hill, from which the name Watchhill had no doubt derived. Once, Guardians and Agents had kept watch from here over the surrounding lands, looking for rogues and other sources of trouble, living in the warrens under the hill. However, as Dakro stood at the entrance, he could hear the cacophony of growls and grunts echoing from within, as the watchpost had been overrun by savage rogues.

Dispatching rogue fyora and rogue thahd, Dakro barely paused to consider that the task of dispatching rogues had become so easy for him, that he had not even to expend that much effort, for the trio of his fyora did most of the work for him. And then ahead, he could see a chamber with a pool of essence within. However, it did not look right-dark and viscous, and it did not smell right, smelling rather of an unpleasant vinegar.

' _Can't use that. Sure not Shaper made,'_ thought Dakro. _'What is this? Oh, no ... oh ... so that's where these rogues are coming from. Then I suppose it is time to strike at the root.'_

Whatever this was, Dakro had seen nothing like it before, rather plant-like with three large tentacles springing from the top of the thing, and suddenly a fyora was squeezed out of one of the tentacle-like appendage, as another tentacle began absorbing the peculiar essence.

After defeating the bizarre creature, with no sign as to how it had come about, Dakro and his fyoras continued through the woods, slaying the various rogues they encountered. After another turn, they came to a small house, a carefully tended garden, and a grazing ornk.

Dakro came up to the house and entered. Within was an ancient servile, her skin papery and robes tattered, though her movements seemed to be like that of a warrior.

"Greetings, Shaper. I am Seerula," she said. "I am sure you have a reason for disrupting my privacy. I prefer to keep to myself."

"Why do you have so little respect for me, a Shaper?" said Dakro.

"A Shaper who is as stranded on this island as I am," said Seerula, a sneer in the servile's voice. "I am Awakened, Shaper. I do not hold you in awe."

"So, why do you live out here?" said Dakro.

"Shaper, I am a private being. I wish for you to respect it," said Seerula. "My disagreements with Vakkiri are my own business."

"I see," said Dakro, as he wondered whether anyone in Vakkiri would tell him why this servile lived alone, and whether he might slay her for her insolence without being brought down by a swarm of the rogue serviles. "That will be all, then."

Leaving Seerula, Dakro continued through the woods until he came to the entrance of a fortress guarded by a pair of young adult serviles.

With a certain degree of fear and uncertainty, one guard said, "Welcome, Shaper. I wish you well."

"Who lives in this fort?" asked Dakro.

"This is the home of Ellhrah, founder of the Awakened. He has told us that you are welcome here, and no harm is meant to you as long as no harm is meant to us," said the guard.

"Is there anything else I should know about this region?" said Dakro.

"Since you destroyed the creatures, things have been very peaceful," replied the guard. "We thank you for your help."

"I know Vakkiri is to the west," said Dakro. "What other settlements are nearby?"

"The nearest settlement besides Vakkiri is Pentil," replied the guard. "You could get there by going east or north."

"Very well," said Dakro, nodding a dismissal from further conversation, and he stepped past the guards into the fortress.

The fortress, Dakro realized, was another Shaper ruin, probably a barracks. The serviles had been hard at work here, restoring it. Crumbling stone had been replaced with new wood flooring, tapestries had been painstakingly repaired. Dakro could sense the attention of the serviles on him, noting they were all armed. ' _I must remember they are rogues, and they will not shrink from striking a Shaper,_ ' thought Dakro. ' _And as they outnumber me, I am better served to let them think I have gone along with them.'_

One of the guards within said, "Welcome, Shaper, to the home of the Awakened. Ellhrah awaits."

Dakro nodded, ambling through the section of the fortress where a number of serviles had set up shop. He looked through the things, and continued, finding a part of the fortress that had not yet been restored. This area was unusually cold, and he hurried through, finding himself back in the restored section after a short time. _'That does bear some investigating. What could make it so cold?'_ he wondered.

There was a large pool in the room that Dakro's wanderings brought him to, and here, there was a shy, quiet servile pacing about.

As Dakro neared, she said, "Hi, I am Ting." She smiled and looked down and said, "I've been wanting to say something to you."

"You said that you want to say something to me?" said Dakro. "What?"

"There's someone named Nabb in Vakkiri. He's very interesting," said Ting. "You should talk to him."

"What do you do here?" said Dakro, filing this bit of information away, without commenting that Nabb had already been exposed and was no longer in Vakkiri.

"I am a cook. I make food for all of the serviles," said Ting. "Though not Ellhrah."

"Why not Ellhrah?" said Dakro.

"He only cooks his own food. He's very nervous about things," replied Ting.

"I see," said Dakro. "That's all for now."

Dakro continued on his way, and finally met Ellhrah, the servile leader and wise one. _'He doesn't look that exceptional ... strong, armed ... but not the only servile I've seen like that. He's not that old, not that scarred. But ... he's not afraid of me.'_

"Welcome, Shaper. Welcome to our home. I am Ellhrah, of the Awakened. Since I heard of your arrival on our isle, I have eagerly awaited your visit," said Ellhrah. "I desire to speak with you."

"There is much I would like to learn about this island," said Dakro.

"So do we all," said Ellhrah. "What interests you?"

"Why did the Shapers abandon Sucia Island?" said Dakro.

"We know that it was a cruel act, abandoning the serviles the way they did, but we do not know what caused it. Speak with Learned Pinner in Vakkiri, she may be able to help you learn more," replied Ellhrah.

"And the canisters?" said Dakro. "What do you know of them?"

Ellhrah looked at Dakro carefully, and frowned, as though he did not like what he saw. "I can see how they have given you strength. And I can see how you want the strength the things give you. It must be necessary to survive the dangers here," said Ellhrah. "However, they are changing you in a way that I do not understand, and it frightens me. You look cold and strange, and you glow in a soft, strange way. Use them if you must, but be careful."

"I would like to speak with you about this area," said Dakro. "Have you been attacked by many rogues recently?"

"It is impossible to travel around here and not know the answer to that. However, since you have cleared out Watchhill, we have seen the remains of the strange spawning creature," said Ellhrah. "We have no idea who might have made such a cruel horror. We hope you can find them."

"What villages are near here?" said Dakro.

"You have already been to Vakkiri. That is, I feel, the wisest and strongest of the servile outposts. Pentil is to the east. You can get there by traveling east or north from Watchhill. Both routes will get you there eventually, though the path to the east is full of dangerous rogues," said Ellhrah. "Pentil is occupied by the Obeyers. They worship your kind, to an extent that upsets me. Farther east is Kazg, home of the Takers. They hate Shapers. Be forewarned."

"I am seeking a boat," said Dakro. "I wish to leave this island."

"I can understand your desire, but I can't aid you. I do not know where a boat might be found. You might try searching the villages to the east, but their beliefs are very backward," said Ellhrah. "I can't recommend going there if you can avoid it."

' _Of course, anyone who does not agree with him is backward,_ ' thought Dakro. ' _But I may as well listen to the sort of things these serviles believe from their leader_.' "I want to know more of the Awakened," said Dakro.

"I am glad to hear it. The meaning of my entire life is to tell more of our sect and our beliefs," said Ellhrah. "I am glad that you have come to speak with me before supporting a different sect. I am sure you find that our views are the wisest on Sucia Isle."

"What do the Awakened believe?" said Dakro.

"We believe that the Shapers created us. However, we also believe that while we should be grateful, we should no longer be your slaves. We wish to deal with you as intelligent beings, and as equals. We believe in fair trade for goods and services. For anything we give you, we expect fair compensation, and for anything we take from you, we will pay. We believe that we and the Shapers can live together in peace and mutual support," said Ellhrah. "And most of all, we want peace and dignity."

' _Such honeyed words from a rogue, but ... perhaps it isn't so_ ...' thought Dakro. "I can hardly believe I am saying this," he said, "but I can see some sense in what you are saying. Before I came here, I never imagined that serviles could watch after themselves."

Ellhrah smiled, and said, "You are the first real Shaper one of our kind has ever met. That we could convince you gives me hope for the future."

"And what do you think of these other sects?" said Dakro.

"In Pentil, you will find the Obeyers. They not only want to obey the Shapers, they worship them. The name of our kind is serviles, but for them, the title truly fits," said Ellhrah. "Farther east are the Takers of the Free. They hate your kind. They long for nothing more than to die in a futile war against you. If you visit them, tread carefully. They are dangerous."

"I shall keep that in mind," said Dakro. "And if I wanted to join in this fight of yours?"

"Your words and deeds make us feel that you might truly support us. Now, if you perform a bold deed to aid servile independence, we will let you join us, and make you one of our own," said Ellhrah.

Dakro managed to rein in the shudder, and said, "How can I help you? What sort of deed do you want done?"

"North of here, west of Crag Valley, is another Shaper ruin, this one in worse shape than most. It is full of rogue roamers and an intelligent and evil vlish named Warp. Its ambushes have slain many serviles," said Ellhrah. "Warp is controlled by an old but still living servant mind called Control Four. It hates intelligent serviles. It wants to destroy us. If you can destroy it, we will be much safer. Do this thing, and we will gladly make you one of us."

"It sounds like a very difficult quest. Surely you can give me some assistance?" said Dakro.

Ellhrah thought for a moment, and said, "We have a weapon. A Shaper weapon, used only to destroy creations. It is an evil thing. But Warp is a great danger. We can let you use it." He drew out a bronze key, and said, "The rod you seek is in the old, crumbling chambers south of here. Show this key to the guard to pass. Good luck."

Dakro took the key, following the directions. ' _A canister! He did not mention this_ ,' thought Dakro, and despite the warning about the cold, strange look, he touched it. Again, he felt the peculiar sense of being changed. Looking through, he found some more Shaper trash, a surviving living tool, and then at last, the item Ellhrah had mentioned.

' _They make them differently these days, but no mistaking that-it's a discipline wand, the last line of defense against rogues. No wonder Ellhrah hid it so well_ ,' thought Dakro. ' _And now it is mine!_ '

Dakro took the items he found, and then went back along more of the unfinished corridors. 'I am near the servant mind!' he thought, and he went on, making his way through the door. In one cupboard, he found a jar of mind nutrients, which he packed away, remembering Polvarus in the old school.

Rounding the corner, he found the servant mind. There was no use in speaking to it, as it had been clearly killed, struck by bladed weapons multiple times. The cold had preserved the body well, but Dakro figured it could not have been dead for more than a few months. ' _They kill the Servant Minds? How ... and they wanted me to do the same for them ... I will not, but I shall string them along as long as I can_.'

Dakro then left the fortress avoiding further conversation, and returned to Vakkiri, telling Khobar about the destruction of the spawner in Watchhill.

"You have done well. You have assisted us. And as equals, we will pay you in kind for your trouble," said Khobar, handing Dakro a pouch.

' _There is little more odious than listening to these serviles rant on about being my equal,_ ' thought Dakro as he looked inside the pouch to find a number of quite old gold coins. ' _Still, I suppose it doesn't hurt to lead them on ... for now. Someday, I shall treat them as the rogues they are_.'

"What could have created that thing you found? It is odd. Strange events are happening on Sucia Isle, and we know nothing of what they are or how to deal with them. I hope you can understand these events, because we can't," said Khobar. "If you wish to learn more of what is happening, you should go east. If you are not leaving immediately, however, there is a way in which you could help us, again for fair pay."

"And what would that be?" said Dakro.

"You should speak with Ellhrah, if you have not already. And I need to get a message to him, but I can't endanger my people on the eastern road," said Khobar, handing Dakro a scroll. "Take this to Ellhrah. When it is done, I will pay you again. And when you meet Ellhrah, you should speak with him. You may not think a servile can be wise. If so, I think you will be surprised."

"Very well," said Dakro.

He rested in Vakkiri, and then set out, after creating a thahd to serve him. ' _I will find more dangers yet_ ,' he thought. ' _The thahd will be useful. Although I hardly can imagine myself spending time as a courier for serviles ... still, it keeps them placated.'_

Dakro made his uneventful way back to Ellhrah, and handed him the message.

"I am impressed that you are humble enough to spend some time helping our kind," said Ellhrah, taking the message and reading it. Ellhrah laughed. "I must be honest with you. The message is of no importance," he said, crumpling it up and throwing it away. "It was merely a pretext to get you here, so that you might speak to me. Many in Vakkiri would like you to learn more of the Awakened."

"As I have already," said Dakro. "And there is something you should know. There is someone in your employ named Ting, and I believe she is a spy for the Takers."

Ellhrah nodded. "I suspected as much. Thank you for your confirmation," he said. He called in a guard, whispering in the other servile's ear for a minute, and then the guard left quickly. "The Takers have made no secret of the fact that they want me dead. I can't tolerate their followers until they are peaceful to us."

"Understood," said Dakro, fully expecting the guard had been given orders to slay Ting quickly.

Rather annoyed at the subterfuge, Dakro then left Ellhrah's fortress shortly thereafter, taking grim pleasure in the presence of fresh bloodstains on the floor near where he had met Ting. ' _One less rogue on this isle_ ,' he thought, and he made his way out into the woods around Watchhill.

All remained quiet, and he decided to return to Vakkiri to collect whatever payment Khobar intended to give him. The return trip was uneventful, and he ignored the presence of servile guards as he made his way to Khobar.

"I delivered your message," said Dakro, sounding stern and disapproving. "Now, about that payment?"

"Excellent. The message was not so important, I think, as the fact that you have now met Ellhrah. That was very important. There is much we all have to learn from him," said Khobar. "Still, here you are." He handed another pouch to Dakro. "The more we hear of strange things happening on Sucia Isle, the more we feel that it is a good thing that a Shaper has arrived."

"I had met Ellhrah before," said Dakro. "There was no need for the nonsense. Now, are there any other dangers you need to be rescued from?"

"I suspect that another of the creature spawners has been placed near us. If you go north of Watchhill, you will find a hilly region we call Crag Valley," replied Khobar. "We have a true treasure here, a rare artifact the Shapers left behind when they fled. Destroy the spawner, and the artifact is yours."

"As it happens," replied Dakro, "I am interested in traveling north of that place. So I will look into the matter."

With that, Dakro took his fyoras and thahd, and left for Watchhill, traveling along the path which led out from the place to the north. Almost as soon as they had passed to the north, Dakro noted the smell of a fire, and turned to find two servile guards standing there.

One servile warrior was clearly happy to meet Dakro, seeming unsurprised to find a Shaper upon the isle. "Welcome. I am Forney. I am one of the guards of this pass. I am honored that you are visiting our lonely post," he said, bowing, his robes falling open to reveal a beautiful chainmail vest.

"You seem pleased to see me," said Dakro.

"I was raised to honor the Shapers, for their wisdom and for creating us," said Forney. "I have been taught that I must always have faith in your kind and follow them without question."

' _Did I find an Obeyer, at last?_ ' wondered Dakro, who said, "I approve of those teachings. We created you, and know what is best for you."

"Thank you, Shaper," replied Forney. "It is good to know that the faith of my family has not been in vain."

"And why are you posted out here?" asked Dakro.

"My friend Dern and I are charged to keep this pass clear for travel. We are but one link in the chain that connects Vakkiri to the west and Pentil to the east," said Forney. "Of late, however, our post is a dangerous one. The nearby lands are infested with rogues. At times, they emerge, and we must beat them back. It is a mystery. We do not know why so many appeared so quickly."

"Tell me more of the lands to the northwest," said Dakro.

"I am glad you asked, Shaper. Dern and I have spent some time sneaking among these woods. However, there is a ruin there," and he pointed northwest, "we have not been able to enter. The ruin is filled with artila, and we never fight those things if we can avoid it. The west entrance has not so many, but the southeast is very heavily traveled by the artila."

"I see," said Dakro. "I believe I know what is making the rogues. There was a thing that I found in the barracks of Watchhill ... an abomination not of Shaper make, but a creation making creations. I suspect I shall find another in this ruin you speak of."

Forney looked quite concerned, and said, "Oh, Shaper, Dern and I could never fend off something like what you describe. Shaper, please, if you could use some of your awesome powers to destroy those who threaten your creations, we should be ever so grateful."

Dakro turned to the other servile, who was unwilling to meet his gaze, face obscured in her hood so that mood could not be determined. "Greetings, Shaper. I Dern," she muttered.

"How fare you today?" said Dakro.

"I ... I should no talk. I not talk. I fight. You talk Forney. Forney talk," she said, and fell silent.

Turning back to Forney, Dakro said, "Where can I go from here?"

"Due south is the keep of Ellhrah, the founder of the Awakened. I am an Obeyer, so I avoid that area. And west of there is Vakkiri," replied Forney. "If you leave here, and head east, you will enter the Hills of Jars. Beyond there lies Pentil. However, the route is a difficult one of late."

"I have heard of the Obeyers from the ones calling themselves Awakened," said Dakro. "I wish to hear what an Obeyer is from an Obeyer."

"A wise sect, based in Pentil, which believes that the Shapers are right and true and wise in all things," replied Forney. "If you went to Pentil to give us your blessing, your kindness would overwhelm us."

"A few more questions," said Dakro. "Why is the route to the east difficult?"

"To pass there, one must go through a warren of Shaper tunnels, possibly old warehouses. Recently, all the doors in the warren closed, we know not why, and the passage was blocked," replied Forney. "Of course, one with the awesome powers and wisdom of a Shaper would have little difficulty clearing the way for us loyal serviles."

"And why is this called the Hill of Jars?" said Dakro.

"Because the warrens there contain many jars," replied Forney.

"I see," said Dakro. "That will be all for now."

Turning away from the servile guards, Dakro motioned to his fyoras and thahd, and they set off into the surrounding wooded hills. It did not take long before Dakro caught sight of more rogues-thahds, this time, and he briefly thought, ' _I'm going to have to come up with a name for this thahd. Not now, though_.'

More hills, more woods, and roamers as well, their dying yelps echoing against the hills before the sounds died away altogether. Finally, Dakro reached the ruins that the servile guards about the fire had mentioned. ' _A small shaping hall, no great research went on here_ ,' he thought. ' _I'm sure I won't find anything that answers the greater questions of Sucia Isle, but at least it will probably be the place where I find another of those spawning creations_.'

From inside, he could hear the echoing hisses of the various rogue creations inside, and the smell of vinegar was thick in the air, bringing water to his eyes. Moving within, he was surprised to find a surviving essence pool, not befouled like the one used by the spawning creation in the other warren, and beyond that, despite an archaic design, he could recognize the power spiral. It glowed slightly, hot to the touch, filled with organic goo.

' _They left a spiral intact? How very odd,'_ thought Dakro. ' _One would think there'd be enough time before leaving the Barred island to turn this off ... oh dear, it's becoming unstable. I'm not sure I have the skill yet to stabilize it ... best make a quick work of explosion after getting to safety_.'

Hitting it in a few exposed places, Dakro ordered his fyoras and thahd to retreat to the entrance, and once he was satisfied the work was done, Dakro ran to join them, and waited until he heard the explosion.

Moving into the more thoroughly ruined ruin, Dakro noticed the vinegary smelling pool, and a pile of gemstones. 'Just like that other spawning creation. I think my work is done,' he thought.

Slaying a few more rogue creations, Dakro then made his way back to the fire where the two servile guards had been.

"I have destroyed the spawner," said Dakro. "Your work will be easier now."

Forney fell to the ground, pressing his forehead against the dirt. "Thank you, Shaper," he said, his words slightly muffled by the ground. Eventually, he stood, and said, "We knew you would return and use your powers to help us! Thank you! Oh, thank you!"

' _Now that is more like it ... none of this "we're your equals" nonsense,_ ' thought Dakro. "Your faith is rewarded," he said. "Now, I do have much yet to do, for I mean to find my way to Pentil."

"Yes, Shaper," said Forney. "They will be so glad to see you."

Dakro nodded, and then made his way to the path to the east.


	6. Chapter 5

After several hours winding his way through narrow, barren valleys, Dakro entered a narrow tunnel. The stone had been worn by the feet of many serviles, no doubt carrying goods from one place to another. Though many had come through here before him, it was now curiously silent, a fine layer of dust beginning to settle over the tracks.

"Something must have blocked the way," said Dakro. "This will bear more investigation."

He pulled the lever, and the door opened, and he walked further in, stopping short as he saw the room ahead filled with mines. The complex had definitely once been home to a vast quantity of Shaper supplies, now scavenged by the grubby fingers of various serviles.

Dakro looked at the mines with concern and puzzlement. ' _Shaper mines have limited lifespans-horrible things would happen if they were left when Shapers moved on. These shouldn't be alive ... unless they were very recently created. But by whom?'_

His eye was caught by another lever to the right, and he went over, pulling that one after picking through the chains that held it in place. Inside the next room, he found a spore switch.

 _'If I can manage this, it should take care of those mines,'_ thought Dakro. ' _Twist this the right way, and the spore mines will deactivate. Well ... only one way to be sure.'_

He twisted the switch, and the box made a faint hissing noise. Returning to the larger room, he noted that the spore mines appeared to be inert, their antennae no longer swiveling to seek a target, and he and his fyoras and thahd made their way through, past the gruesome sight of a servile merchant who had gotten too near a mine.

Picking his way through, Dakro reached the other side, and a series of locked doors controlled by levers. Here, he realized, was one of the warehouse rooms, apparently not yet scavenged by serviles, though the Shapers had been fairly thorough in removing things of value. Most interesting, though, was the fact that there were freshly grown turrets in the room.

 _'Mines and turrets! Who is capable of doing such things? Surely not the serviles, that would be ... impossible_ ...' thought Dakro as the turrets rotated toward him. ' _What!? I did not think that even a mindless thing like a turret could go rogue!'_

Slaying the turrets, Dakro took the time to heal his creations. ' _They have served me well, and I would rather keep them than make new ones_ ,' he thought, and then he set about harvesting the thorns from the turrets, and collecting the other supplies he found. ' _Another canister!'_ he thought, and he moved to it, to take whatever change this canister would make to him.

After more searching and forcing more doors open, deactivating another spore minefield, he came into a large chamber with a number of record books. The record entries were all no more recent than two hundred years past, and he noticed one entry "3 augmentation canisters" amongst the things stored here, with a handwritten annotation "leave behind". ' _Three? But I have found only one ... must keep looking_ ,' thought Dakro.

Then he found a key, and took that along, and rounded a corner to find a servant mind. To his surprise, the mind was alive and functioning, so alert that it seemed to have been recently fed.

The mind looked confused, and said, "Welcome, Shaper. I am surprised to see you. And pleased. I had thought there would be no more Shapers. I am servant mind Pak."

"What is your purpose here?" said Dakro.

"I was the quartermaster for this facility. Most of my mind was formed to store vast amounts of information. My skills were put to use remembering all that was in here and all that was removed," replied Pak.

"What supplies here would be useful to me?" said Dakro.

"Oh, many, many things, Shaper. I can equip you with many powerful items," said Pak, and he started to list weaponry, rations, and so forth.

 _'Damn, it's all out of date, he doesn't know it's been looted_ ,' thought Dakro. "That's enough, stop listing. I could use a boat."

"I am sorry, Shaper. A boat would not fit in this complex. Try looking at the main docks," said Pak. "They are to the southwest."

 _'Probably where I came ashore,'_ thought Dakro. ' _No boat there_.' "Do you know why the Shapers left?" he asked.

"No, Shaper, I am so sorry," said Pak.

"How about the mines and turrets placed around," said Dakro. "Do you know about that?"

Pak looked uncomfortable, tiny useless limbs flopping about worriedly. "There was one who came here with guards. A human. He came and said he was an envoy from the Shapers. He said that I must place defenses to protect our supplies. I did so. Please forgive me if it was against the true will of the Shapers."

"The Shapers do not want those things here," said Dakro. "Please deactivate them immediately. I do not blame you for being tricked."

Pak closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them and said, "It is done, Shaper. These paths are clear."

"Tell me about the human," said Dakro.

"He was no Shaper, but he said he was. I am sorry, Shaper. I am only good for remembering, not analyzing personal character and veracity," said Pak. "He had two guards with him. Well-armed. One of them said his name, and he seemed angry."

"What was the name?" said Dakro. "I do not expect you to have been able to do more than you were made to do."

"I am sorry, Shaper. He ordered me to forget the name. I couldn't. I had already stored it," said Pak. "So he ordered me never to retrieve it."

"As a Shaper, I outrank all non-Shapers," said Dakro. "I command you to ignore all orders given by non-Shapers. Once that is done, tell me the name."

Pak thought for some time, face expressing considerable exertion. "I can't let you affect protected memories, but I can let you affect orders. So all such orders are forgotten. Now, what did you want? Oh, yes. The name," said Pak, finally. "The name of the human who commanded me was Trajkov."

"Interesting," said Dakro. _'Trajkov. I must remember that name.'_ "That's all for now, you have done well."

Dakro left, and began moving through the other bays, ignoring the turrets which now ignored him and his creations. ' _As they should. Ah, there it is ... a second canister_ ,' thought Dakro.

Dakro continued, finding various living tools, crystals, and other supplies that the serviles had not yet found, and he appropriated them. Finally, he found the third canister, and used it as well. ' _I am certain this Trajkov has used some of these, if he found them. I am lucky that he had not found these three. Maybe he cannot read our tongue, and did not know to look_ ,' thought Dakro.

After carefully searching through the various bays of the warehouses, Dakro was certain he had gotten everything of use to him, and he found an exit. ' _I think this is east. If I haven't gotten completely turned around in this place_ ,' he thought.

Dakro emerged into a wide, open, and sunny valley. The valley was filled with farms, with many carefully marked and cultivated plots of land upon which were growing the vegetables that Dakro had already learned were the staple of the serviles here. The arrival of rogues had been especially harsh to this area, as the crops had clearly recently suffered neglect, and in the distance, confused ornks could be heard lowing.

 _'If this is indeed near Pentil, then the Obeyers are clearly doing much better than the Awakened,_ ' thought Dakro. ' _And that is as it should be, I think._ '

While Dakro and his creations were easily able to pick off the rogue thahds they encountered, they reached an impasse. Ahead, Dakro could see that the western approach to the village of Pentil (at least, so he surmised from the signs he had found) was closed by a blockade of thahd and artila.

The thahds and artila sat patiently, bones on the ground testifying to the fate of those who had tried to break the blockade before.

' _They may be naught but creations, but they are strong and numerous,_ ' thought Dakro. ' _I am not sure I can overcome. Perhaps there is some other way.'_

As Dakro continued, he was surprised to see a servile guard standing on the outer edge of a slightly protected area. The guard greeted him with what seemed an overwhelming delight to see a Shaper, and begged him to go into the encampment to meet their leader, Chesh.

The band of serviles had clearly had a hard time of it lately, and Dakro thought they all looked exhausted and demoralized.

Chesh, who seemed to be the most fatigued of all, was trembling and almost asleep on his feet until he caught sight of Dakro, and he put his hand on the pommel of his sword, dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

"I had not even dared to hope. I had heard the rumors, but I ... I welcome you, Shaper. I place myself and my men at your disposal. I am Chesh Blade, of the village of Pentil," said Chesh, and he stood again. "We are isolated now, trapped and separated from home. Our losses have been great. Yet hopefully, now that you are here, the tide will turn."

Dakro looked about, and said, "What is this place?"

"These are the fields where Pentil grows all of its food. Or it was, until the rogues swept in from the north and blocked the city gates," replied Chesh. "Now it is a ruin, eagerly awaiting the wisdom of the Shapers to set it right."

"Tell me of your troubles," said Dakro.

"The west gate of Pentil is to the northeast. However it is blocked. There is a strong force of rogues there, in a good defensive position, and none of our forces have been adequate to defeat the blockade," said Chesh.

"Describe their forces," said Dakro.

"It will sound meager to your ears, Shaper. It is perhaps ten thahds and a half dozen artila. The thahds provide a buffer, while the artila sear any who approach," said Chesh. "Perhaps we might dislodge them, but at ruinous cost to ourselves. A cost we can't afford. Of course, with your help, I am sure we could dispatch them easily."

"Why do you wait?" said Dakro. "Why don't you clear the gate?"

Chesh looked at Dakro carefully, as though assessing Dakro's strength. ' _He is an Obeyer, but his faith is not absolute,_ ' thought Dakro.

"We will, Shaper," said Chesh. "But perhaps not yet. As I said, their position is very strong."

"You will have my assistance. I will be with you," said Dakro. "Attack the gate now."

Chesh looked at Dakro, thinking, and finally said, "Shaper, I thank you for being so kind. We will attack the gate soon. As soon as our wounds are healed."

' _This lots looks pitiful and terrified,_ ' thought Dakro. ' _I'm not going to hold my breath waiting on their assistance.'_

"You will have my assistance. You can attack the gate now," said Dakro. "We Shapers have developed new abilities. With your help, I will devastate them."

Chesh looked terrified still, but he said, "Up, men! It is time!"

Slowly, painfully, the serviles began to move.

"A Shaper is here! We must do what is expected of us," said Chesh. "Shaper, you have but to give the word, and the assault will begin."

"It is time," said Dakro. "Attack the gate. I will be with you."

Gathering their courage for a lusty battle roar, the serviles left their camp, and Dakro and his fyoras and thahd made their way back to the line he had seen before.

The battle was over swiftly-Dakro found that his fyoras and thahd fought much better than the rogues, and his own skill with the thorn baton had improved, such that the thahds fell while the death screeches of artila remained in the air. Dakro watched as the weary serviles continued into Pentil, and then he himself entered.

Pentil was actually more than a village-a large fort, perhaps once the administrative center.

' _I wasn't sure at first, but it is clear this island was once a major Shaper research center. Whatever caused my people to declare Sucia forbidden, it must have been very dramatic,_ ' thought Dakro.

As he entered the village, the effect on the serviles was certainly dramatic. They stared at him in awe, some even fell to their knees.

One guard walked up to Dakro, staring at the ground as he shuffled his feet, and said, "Shaper, welcome to Pentil, in the name of the Obeyers, we welcome you. We are grateful that you have returned to rule and guide us at last."

He walked back slowly, not daring to look directly at Dakro. When Dakro looked, any servile who chanced to meet his gaze immediately looked away, to the ground.

' _For once on this isle_ ,' thought Dakro, ' _I have found serviles who behave as serviles ought_.'

Dakro began walking through the place, and came to a sign declaring it to be the main barracks, under the command of a servile named Mickall Blade.

'I doubt that I'll ever get used to this,' thought Dakro, 'I cannot believe there are serviles like this-tall, armed, armored-skilled with the weapons, no doubt. It is to thahds and battle creations for fighting, not serviles ... Yet, I don't think I need fear this one will turn on me, as some have.'

Mickall looked to be beside himself-overjoyed at the sight of a Shaper, and he said, "Welcome, great Shaper. I am Mickall Blade, commander of the armed serviles here. We have waited so long for the return of your kind. There are so many foes opposing us, and so little we can do to oppose them. Without help."

"You say that you need my help?" said Dakro. "What is troubling you, servile?"

"If you leave the city gates to the east, and travel down the road to the south, you will reach Thorny Wood. Along the central road, you will find a small outpost. The guards there block in a band of dangerous, rogue serviles sent from wicked Kazg to the east," said Mickall. "They have protected themselves with traps and guards, and we cannot eliminate them. Thus, I must waste valuable forces besieging them. If you could slay them, it would be most helpful to your loyal serviles here."

"I wish to learn more of the threats around you," said Dakro. "I will look into this Thorny Wood after I have inspected this village."

"Ah, where to begin? There are constant spies and infiltrators from Kazg. There are the rogues. And now there are even sightings of evil humans on our isle," said Mickall. "All humans are Barred from here, and yet they come."

"Where did the rogues come from?" said Dakro.

"We don't know. They first started to come about a year ago, first one or two, small and misshapen, then more, and then hordes. I hear there are even huge beasts that hide in caves and make the things themselves," said Mickall. "At first, it was a nuisance. Now, it threatens all our lives."

"What about the spies from Kazg?" said Dakro.

"Kazg is a village to the east. It is a sick place, consumed by the beliefs of the Takers who would lead us in rebellion against your kind. The horror of it! I can't bear to think of it!" said Mickall. "They send spies here all the time to foment violence against our creators. Do not worry, though. When we find one of them, we deal with them."

"How?" said Dakro.

"Quickly," replied Mickall. "And in a way that ensures they will never question the Shapers again. We never hesitate to do your will."

"In that case, you have done well, and should continue in such a manner until I have reached Kazg to deal with them," said Dakro. "Now, tell me about these humans."

"I have never seen one myself, only heard the rumors. But this is what I have heard. They look different, they speak in a strange tongue. Their manner is strange. They came here on ships from far away. Each one has the strength of ten thahds, and they can shoot beams of fire from their eyes," replied Mickall. "This is all rumor, though, so perhaps some of it is not entirely reliable."

"It is a matter which will bear investigation," said Dakro. "That is all."

Dakro left the barracks, and saw a servile who looked vaguely familiar, though he now had a bandaged shoulder and bruised face.

"Welcome, Shaper. I am Chesh," he said. "I just came from a fierce battle on the fields to the west. It is good to see that you are well."

"And what do you do now?" said Dakro.

"As you can see, I took quite a beating," said Chesh. "Still, I am walking and will recover. There are two who will not, but it would have been much worse without you, Shaper."

"That is good," said Dakro, "rest and recover."

"Thank you, Shaper," said Chesh. "You are so kind."

Dakro continued, finding another hall. Inside, there was a young servile who moved as though she bore a heavy burden. Her hands showed the signs of much work, but her robes were clean, and she knelt at the sight of Dakro.

A single tear ran down her cheek, and she said, "I heard, but I did not dare believe. It is true. After all our waiting, you have returned to us. Welcome, Shaper. I am Natley, head of the farmers. I have trained the serviles as you would wish."

"Tell me about the farmers," said Dakro.

"We serviles always grew food for the Shapers of Sucia Isle. When they left, we felt they would one day return, and we wanted to be able to resume service to our creators," said Natley. "So, for generations, we have trained our children to grow food. Of course, being able to eat it ourselves helped us survive to serve you better."

"I saw the state of your farms," said Dakro. "I also cleared the rogues away from the west gate."

"Oh, Shaper, I know!" said Natley. "Thank you, thank you! Even now, we are sending out farmers to repair the considerable damage. Thanks to you, we will not starve. You came to solve problems when all was worst, as we were always taught you would."

"Why are you so worn out?" said Dakro.

She bent lower, as though gaining strength from greater proximity to a Shaper. "Not long ago, my bonded was lost. His name was Hodge. He was cutting wood. A vlish poisoned him, and he died," she said. "For a time, I questioned how the Shapers could abandon us. I wondered how they could let these things happen to us. In the end, Rydell came to me, and told me how it was all for the best. He told me how you understand all, and you made sure it was happening for a reason. It was a great comfort to me. Please, Shaper, forgive my doubts."

' _Interesting. I knew serviles were fertile-waste of time and energy to actually create each one, I never gave any thought to their mating rituals. I wonder if I could create a new mate for this one,_ ' thought Dakro. "You are forgiven. Rydell was right, sometimes our creations must suffer."

"I ... I ... I believe you. But at times, some of us, not me, you understand, but some of us question it," said Natley. "I do not. If you say how things must be, that is how things must be. I know that now."

"And when I have had time to set things aright on this isle, your faithfulness will be rewarded," said Dakro.

"Thank you, Shaper," said Natley.

Dakro continued on, looking about this village of Pentil, and in the next building met a burly servile with axes in his belt. The servile seemed restless, and oddly less in awe of Dakro than the others in Pentil. He was in a hall-once quite grand-and now converted into a lumberyard, with the smell of freshly cut wood in the air.

"I'm Godwin," he said. "I'm the head woodsman. I keep serviles trained in the ways, so when the Shapers return we're ready to fetch wood for them."

' _Odd. I never knew serviles to be asked to fetch wood. That's more a task for a dumb brute like a thahd,_ ' thought Dakro, remembering Natley's former bonded. "I've never met a servile woodsman before," he said.

"No? Cutting trees and getting wood was one of the main things Shapers used us serviles for. Though that was a long time ago, I guess. That's why we make sure to train new woodsfolk, down generation to generation," said Godwin. "We must always be able to obey your will. Though it's often been difficult."

"And you must always obey the Shapers?" said Dakro, wondering if this might be one of the spies, for his attitude was different than others in Pentil.

"Always, if they are a true Shaper, one who believes in maintaining the old ways of things," said Godwin. "You aren't an Obeyer, so you don't understand. But we will obey you and take our part in the grand way of things, and give you proper gratitude for our creation."

' _A true Shaper? It almost sounds as though this servile would dare judge a Shaper_ ,' thought Dakro. "Tell me, what sort of difficulties have you had?"

"Nothing that'll surprise you. Rogues. Vlish. Lots of them, in the woods to the south. They aren't that tough. Run a few of us in with axes, and we can take them down quick," said Godwin. "But then, next week, they're back. They keep reappearing, and we can't figure out from where."

"Perhaps I could figure out where the vlish are coming from," said Dakro.

"Perhaps you could. We have always hoped that Shapers would return to help us, but I never thought it would happen. But if it did, I sure would be grateful," said Godwin. "If you can find the source of the vlish and remove it, I would reward you as best I can."

' _He sounds more like those Awakened rogues,_ ' thought Dakro. "So, what is all this wood for?"

"Warmth. Tools. Cooking fires. Also, we're running out of space in the old Shaper buildings. We think we should try to make our own, new buildings, out of wood," said Godwin. "We don't know if serviles making buildings follows the true will of the Shapers. There is argument. But soon, I think we will have no choice."

"I shall have to think on the matter after I have been elsewhere on this isle," said Dakro. "I will let you know."

Dakro left, and found a courtyard where several serviles had set up stands. It appeared that once, there had been a great deal of commerce here, though it had been dramatically reduced recently with the number of dangerous creatures plaguing the countryside.

Strangely, though the serviles seemed to worship him, this merchant looked uncomfortable. "Greetings, mighty Shaper. I am honored that you have found the time to inspect my humble wares," he said. "I hope that you will forgive me, but times are very tight, and I must ask much more for my goods than I would like to."

"Just how has trade been lately?" said Dakro, looking over the goods.

"Oh, Shaper it has been terrible. Since those horrible monsters started roaming everywhere, it has been so dangerous. We have been unable to scavenge for Shaper artifacts, and we have not been able to carry goods between settlements," said the merchant, looking hopefully at Dakro. "If only one of the bridges to the east were clear, life would be much easier. Hopefully someone will come and help us in our time of need."

Dakro nodded, and continued on, finding another servile who seemed relatively happy despite the horrors that were surrounding her, although the good-natured happiness ramped up to ecstasy when she saw Dakro approaching.

"The Shaper! Visiting me! I am honored," she said. "I am Pixley, the leader of the travelers, ones who move things about, who roam the whole isle. Sometimes to aid the Shapers, sometimes for ourselves. It is the greatest honor to meet a Shaper at last."

"You travel around?" said Dakro, wondering just how extensive these travels were.

"My ancestors were the ones who moved supplies around for the Shapers. We do the same thing now, keeping the routes of travel clear so that we may serve your kind in the same way when you return," said Pixley. "But since you have been traveling, you must know how dangerous our task is."

"What has made things particularly dangerous?" said Dakro.

"That is an easy one. It's the bridges. The river to the east is spanned by two bridges, and they're both blocked. They're guarded by monsters and such. I have lost two travelers there. Both killed," said Pixley. "It is the horrible sort of thing we have been hoping the Shapers would rescue us from. If you could clear one of the bridges for us, we would be ever so grateful."

"Yes, I see," said Dakro. "Tell me about the things that are to the north and the east of here."

"To the north, desolate wastes, with rogues and little else. Beware that area, Shaper. Not even my folk travel up there," replied Pixley. "To the east, first there is the river, spanned by two bridges-crumbling, but intact. Then heavy woods. You will find many rogue creations, but servile posts as well. Some of them will aid you. Then the deadly area of Kazg, swarming with Takers. Then a few jagged, rocky peaks, and then water again."

"I wish to find a boat," said Dakro. "In your travels, have you ever seen one?"

"I wish I could meet your every need, Shaper, but I have never seen a boat. But ..." Pixley stopped, brow furrowed as she thought. Then she continued, "One of my travelers told me that she saw a ship recently, near the shore south of here."

"How long ago?" said Dakro.

"Not quite a week, Shaper," said Pixley. "She was traveling through the Tombs. To get there, go south through the woods, and then east. If you explore the shore, you might find something."

' _Damn, that's too close ... the very same day I was attacked and arrived on this island. That ship is probably the one I saw sink_ ,' thought Dakro. "Incidentally, I have a message from Coale, in Vakkiri. He wants to resume trade with you."

"Before you arrived, I would have said it would be futile. But you have done much to clear the route between here and there. Tell Coale that I will do my best to begin sending goods there. He must be patient, though," said Pixley. "It will take time. There is still much danger on the roads."

"And I shall reduce that as I find the sources," said Dakro.

"You are most kind, Shaper," said Pixley. "I am so honored that you have come to speak with me."

Dakro nodded, and left, continuing his inspection of Pentil. ' _How strange. Though these serviles claim total obedience to the Shapers, this is a lab used for shaping new creations, and the serviles have been maintaining it ... and it looks like, despite the absence of Shapers for many years, that this laboratory has seen recent use. The serviles seem to have been trying to use Shaper powers on their own. Very strange ... worrying ... This bears further investigation_ ,' thought Dakro.

Dakro continued within, and saw a servile, and smelled the stench of living fyoras.

"Welcome, Shaper," said the elderly servile. "I am Jaffee of the Obeyers. I have been here long, and have learned much. I am sure there is much you would want to know about this isle, and I can help you."

"What sort of work are you doing here?" said Dakro. "What is this lab used for?"

"Do not fear, Shaper. I am not following the arts forbidden to us serviles. I would never attempt to make my own creations," said Jaffee. "I have been trying to tame existing creations, to control rogues and have them fight for us instead of against us. I expose them to training, to beatings, and to essence, and try to appeal to their natural obedience to true Shaper thoughts."

"And does this work?" said Dakro.

"Yes, it does. Most of the rogues we capture do not survive the training process. But a few, all fyoras, have," replied Jaffee. "They fight for us now, in some places. We need all the force we can have to survive what is against us."

"There is much that I would like to learn from you about this isle," said Dakro.

"I am sure there is. However, I can only share my knowledge with an ally of the Obeyers. I know much, but I cannot afford to aid anyone we are not sure follows the true designs of the Shapers," replied Jaffee.

Dakro arched an eyebrow at this. ' _Call themselves Obeyers, and yet refuse to tell me more? Clearly, they are close to turning rogue as well,_ ' he thought.

He continued, and found a library, simultaneously impressive and pitiful, a monument to the serviles' worship of the Shapers. The shelves were filled with scrolls. Dakro picked up one, and scanned it, and then another. ' _Records, just bureaucratic notes, nothing of importance, of the colony here before it was abandoned. Copies, too ... kept legible by the scribes. Whatever information they contained has been rendered obsolete and useless by years of abandonment. And all because they thought my people might wish this_ ,' he thought.

Here, too, he found a servile-at last one who was doing a proper servile act, for serviles were generally used for record keeping and other less physically taxing jobs.

Showing the respect and awe that had been the norm in most of Pentil, the servile said, "Shaper, you inspect us at last. I am Dayna. Welcome to the records hall. I maintain it, and train other serviles to maintain it. I hope it meets with your approval."

"What sort of records are stored here?" said Dakro.

"My ancestors were charged by the Shapers to keep the records of affairs on this isle. And for years, we have done that. It has been difficult, pulling people away from hunting and farming, but we have always trained more to keep these records," replied Dayna. "Sometimes, they have rotted and been damaged, and we have recopied them. I am sure everything here is intact, and as the Shapers would wish it. I hope our work pleases you."

' _And yet, I cannot bring myself to tell her that this was a waste of time and effort_ ,' thought Dakro. ' _This is a servile who wants to behave as a proper servile, and I should not plant the seed of rogueishness_ ,' and he said, "You have done well. You should always do what the Shapers wish."

"Oh, thank you, Shaper. You are very kind. For so many years, so many of us have wondered whether there is sense in doing what we do. It is good to know we are doing our creators' will,"said Dayna. "We will redouble our efforts, to make sure the records remain intact."

"Is there anything more you need for this task?" said Dakro. ' _Maybe, when I have dealt with the rogues, I can find time to read and see if there isn't something more useful recorded here.'_

"You are kind, Shaper. Many old books of records have been lost over the years. Some to the west, some to the north, some around Kazg. We have tried to find and preserve them, but with little luck," said Dayna. "The more such records you can bring to me, if you find any at all, the better we can serve you."

"Amongst these records," said Dakro, "do you have much of the history of Sucia Isle?"

"Very little," said Dayna. "The records are, well, we don't really understand them. But I have gathered a little bit of knowledge."

"Do you know anything about the canisters I have been finding?" said Dakro.

"I know that they were discovered here. I have records of their construction and use. They are capable of re-writing the very code of life, hidden deep within your being. The Shapers then stopped making them suddenly, and fled the island. I do not know why," said Dayna, and she looked at Dakro closely. "Shaper, you have been using them, haven't you? Though I have never seen one of you, you look strange to me."

Dakro took the mirror from Dayna, and looked within. 'I _have changed. There seems to be a faint glow under my skin, my eyes look ... different. Very strange_ ,' he thought. "Do you know why this island was Barred? Or what it was used for?" he asked, pushing the peculiarities of the changes away from the forefront of his mind.

"Records tell us that huge amounts of supplies were moved around here, and many, many Shapers came and left. The most important Shapers were Defniel, Corata, and Danette. What they were doing and why they left, I have no idea. I am so sorry," said Dayna. "I can tell you, though, who keeps the good records. His name is Toivo. He is a foul Taker, in Kazg. He jealously guards the most valuable records of the Shapers, even the locations of their most useful artifacts! To learn more, find him."

"That is helpful," said Dakro. "That's all for now."

Dakro left, and finally made his way into the hall that some serviles had told him was where he could find the leader of this sect. The massive hall was sparsely decorated, the floor bare except for a scattering of chairs, arranged for discussion. ' _It is as thought they want nothing to distract them from the business at hand_ ,' he thought. ' _I've never seen such a complicated mix of emotions in the face of a servile. Normally, they are simple, docile beings. But this one ... he is in awe, but he is filled with cunning_.'

"Shaper, I have heard of your arrival. I ... I am awed and grateful that you have returned to us at last. I am Rydell, the leader of the Obeyers, the only sect that has stayed steadfast and true in our obedience to your kind," he said. "We know that you are alone here, endangered by the rogue creations that surround us. We hope that you have come to assist us, and to reward us for our obedience."

"Tell me of this village," said Dakro.

"This is the largest servile settlement on Sucia. We have worked hard to make it so," replied Rydell. "We want it to be ready for when the Shapers return. Still, the many threats we face have made our lot a difficult one."

"Tell me more about the rogues," said Dakro.

"I would, but I think you would best learn of the threats which face us from those who must deal with them directly, every day. Find Mickall. He can tell you much," replied Rydell. "And, Shaper, if you are feeling merciful and kind, please help us. Recently, our difficulties have been great."

"I have spoken with Mickall," said Dakro. "And how have you obeyed us in our absence?"

"For each of the tasks the Shapers have serviles perform, we have one group which carries it out. We train each new generation to serve as the ancestors have served," replied Rydell. "Please, Shaper, speak with the serviles here. Note their skill and loyalty, and see how it has made us strong and prosperous."

"Tell me more of the Obeyers," said Dakro.

"Gladly, Shaper. My life is centered around describing our beliefs. I think that they will, upon reflection, be pleasing to you. We are dedicated to nothing but showing your kind the obedience we owe you as our creators," said Rydell. "We hope, one day, that we will be able to convince you to ally with us. I should not need to say much of our beliefs, Shaper, for our beliefs are exactly those of you and your people. You are the creators, the formers. We were not there, and then we were, through your will and efforts. The Awakened say that our debt to you for your act of life-giving may be paid off. We do not know if that is true. We doubt it. But if the debt truly can be paid, it will take many, many more years of true obedience and service. Note, hwoever, that we only serve the true Shapers, who follow the Shapers' true beliefs. If we feel that a Shaper has been twisted from the will of its kind, we will not obey."

" **True** Shapers?" said Dakro. "How can you decide whether a Shaper's beliefs are valid or not?"

"It is, well, it is a difficult question, and one we have much discussed. We feel we owe obedience, but we are not sure whether we owe total obedience to all Shapers, or what to do if two Shapers say different things," said Rydell. "For now, we have decided to follow the Shapers' beliefs as last represented to us before the Shapers left. It is the best we can do."

"I am impressed by your wisdom and self-control in the face of adversity. You gave us the obedience we are owed," said Dakro. "You deserve to be rewarded for your loyalty."

Rydell exhaled a deep breath of relief, and said, "So many years of self-doubt, Shaper. So many years of wondering why you had abandoned us. Now we know, though. Now we know that we have followed the true course, and done what we felt right in the name of the Shapers. Thank you."

"Tell me," said Dakro, "what sorts of things have you done in our name?"

"I am glad you asked, Shaper. We have attempted to maintain your structures, and to keep ourselves trained in the skills you required of us," said Rydell. "In addition, we have interfered as much as we can with the strange, rogue servile sects around us."

"Interfered? How so?" said Dakro.

"However we could. We realized that if the Awakened or the Takers gained strength, their ideas might escape Sucia Isle and infect others. So we have maintained the servant minds, harassed their villages, kept them from needed supplies, and so on," replied Rydell. "For example, we keep the servant mind Control Four to the west alive and well. This has helped keep Vakkiri small and weak, and thus unable to seriously expand their anti-Shaper views."

"I am interested in allying with you. I believe you have served us well," said Dakro, "and I would like to help you make this island more obedient to the Shapers."

For a moment, Rydell's worship was eclipsed by his cunning, and after a moment of thought, he said, "Your words to others have not yet proved you are a true Shaper. Talk to others properly, and one day we may believe that you are not trying to incite us serviles to disobedience and insurrection, but to obedience and wisdom. Until then, we can't believe that you are the one we should obey. We can't take the risk of obeying one who would only lead us away from the true Shaper path."

"I see," said Dakro curtly. ' _Imagine that! A creation daring to judge a Shaper, and even more to judge the Shaper not worthy of obedience! I shall show him, and he will obey._ '


	7. Chapter 6

Still finding himself unable to believe that the serviles of Pentil did not immediately obey, Dakro led his creations out of the village to the south. This had once been a heavy forest, but industrious serviles had been quite busy here over the past century or so, cutting down wood for their fires and homes. Yet now, the place was quiet with no serviles about, indeed not even the common birds and insects.

 _'Ugh, it is hard to think ... it feels like something is here, but ... no, it's vlish. There are vlish about,'_ thought Dakro. _'And it would seem that the minds of the vlish are linked.'_

No sooner had he thought this, than he came under attack by a vlish.

"Spot," he said, "defend me."

The fyora obediently spit forth a gout of flame, and the gaseous bladder of the vlish body burst into flame before dissolving into ash almost immediately thereafter.

After fighting his way around the western perimeter of the woods, letting his fyoras lead the way as their flames were so effective, he found a locked building. Within, he found a room full of bones, all gnawed clean of meat. They had not been there long, and the smell of vinegar was heavy in the air.

 _'Sounds like gurgling and hisses through that door,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Probably another of the spawner creations. This is most peculiar indeed.'_

He opened the door, and unsurprised, found that there was indeed a spawner, which spat out a new vlish. Bringing his creations to bear, Dakro made short work of both the new vlish and the spawner.

 _'Well, that should help,'_ he thought, and he made his continued circuit about the edge of the thick woods. He came to another building, but this door was unlocked and opened at his approach. His heart sank, however, as he recognized that the building had been filled with mines-and in the back of the woods, near the largest mines, was another canister. He thought wistfully of crossing the room to the canister, but held back, sure that the largest mines could be lethal.

 _'This Trajkov, is it possible that he is actually making the mines? It's hard to imagine that it is possible, but if he has found canisters, they could have changed him, too,'_ thought Dakro.

Deciding it was best not to force the issue, Dakro backed away, and continued his explorations, finding in the center of the woods a small house that had been used as a base for about ten serviles before the vlish arrived.

Inside, he found a neat ledger detailing wood harvesting, shipments and prices. This was no surprise to Dakro, as this was the sort of thing that serviles were best at. Tucked between the pages was an unsent letter, much of it smudged by moisture, but Dakro spread it out carefully and began to make out some of the words.

 _The fourth vlish has been sighted, and this one attacked one of the women! When guards arrived, one of them struck it. Not long after being wounded, the thing gave out a loud keen. I suspect the creatures support each other when attacked. Very strange behavior. Who could have programmed them thus? It matters not, at this point, we need more support!_

Dakro shrugged, for he had taken care of the vlish with the removal of the spawner. Thinking of the merchant in Vakkiri, he decided to set out to the west to tell him that he had found Pixley.

In traveling through the thorny fen he saw a number of rogue roamers, and slew those with his creations. Then he heard a shout of alarm, and following the cry, he saw a servile who had been backed against a tree by a rogue roamer.

Dakro called to his fyoras and thahd, and they quickly dispatched the roamer. The servile had been wounded, wincing with pain as Dakro approached and the servile tried to bow.

"A Shaper! I had never dreamed that one of your kind would descend to help someone as lowly as me. I am called Sleet, of Pentil," she said.

"Why are you out here?" said Dakro.

"I am a scout. I have a skill for evading the rogue creations that plague us. Well, I usually do," said Sleet. "Sometimes I am trapped and must fight, but it's a risk I must take to keep Pentil informed."

"Tell me of the dangers of this area," said Dakro.

"Here, there are roamers, and to the east, vlish. You have probably seen for yourself, the roamers here have been given a strange animal cunning. They stalk their foe carefully, waiting for a vulnerable moment to strike," said Sleet. "It is very interesting. We are trying to figure out who could give the roamers such cunning."

"Yes, that information is useful," said Dakro. "You may go now."

"Thank you, Shaper," said Sleet. "I must hurry to Pentil to tell them what I have learned."

Dakro continued, until he had reached Vakkiri once more. The merchant Coale greeted him as Dakro entered the shop.

Dakro said, "I met Pixley. She is eager to resume trade with you, and thinks that the way is clearing."

"Excellent. I am honored that you, with all your important Shaper business, remember to help one as humble as me. Here is a reward for you. We Awakened believe in giving fair payment for assistance," said Coale, handing Dakro three living tools. "Genuine Shaper artifacts."

"Very good," said Dakro, storing those away, while managing to avoid displaying his annoyance at the insertion of Awakened beliefs.

Remembering Khobar had asked him to look into more rogue creations, he went to find the servile leader, and told him that he had taken care of the generator in Crag Valley.

"I suspected as much. You have done good for us, Shaper. It is not enough to make up for all these years of neglect. But it is a start. You should go east, now," said Khobar. "We are scared, Shaper. Horrible forces are at work on this island. It offends my pride to have to ask you for help in such a way, but there it is. Please, find out what is happening."

Dakro nodded, and then left Vakkiri again. _'At least I will not have to listen to more of that damnable Awakened claptrap. Now to continue east and find Kazg.'_

Dakro continued past the woods where he had slain vlish, and entered some narrow valleys. A river seemed to have carved out the gullies a long time ago. The land was dead, with a bitter stink in the air. One obelisk had two symbols, one meaning "Dead Land" and the other "Tombs".

 _'Probably some experiment went wrong ruined this area. But making something good of it, they decided to inter some of their dead here. Might gain some valuable knowledge looking about the tombs,'_ thought Dakro _._

Finding the area where Shaper dead were prepared for burial, Dakro read through the book listing those embalmed in these halls. None of the names were familiar to him, but he read a brief note at the end: "Corata has instructed for defenses to be placed in the tombs. Interlopers who try to study at the crypts must be deterred."

 _'Well, I shall not be deterred,'_ thought Dakro.

He found a small amulet engraved with a symbol for 'Caretaker' and took that along. As he continued south, he could see the sea again, the mainland just barely visible-far too great a distance to swim, and he noticed what looked like a ship mast. Continuing for a better view, he saw the same strange ship that had attacked his craft.

 _'Well, it won't threaten me ... but it won't sail anywhere else, either... It is sinking and soon will be gone,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Solves one mystery, but leaves me no closer to escape than before.'_

Continuing into the tombs, Dakro deactivated a mine, and made his way to the sarcophagus. Surprisingly, the information he found there was quite useful, and didn't appear to be at all out-dated, despite the time that had passed.

Searching through the tombs, Dakro found more mines, but disabled most of them easily, reading and studying, and by the time he had been through them all, he smiled. _'At least this was something well worth the time, even if it doesn't get me any closer to getting off this island,'_ he thought.

He continued north, and after some time, saw a lone servile warrior. The servile kept a hand near the weapon, which Dakro thought peculiar.

"Greetings, Shaper," said the servile. "I am Obeyer Demel, and I wish you well, and hope you extend the same to me."

Dakro noticed there were four fyoras behind the servile, tamely waiting. _'Waiting for an order from a servile? How can this be?'_ he thought. "You have several fyoras here," he said. "Under your control? How is this possible?"

"It is thanks to the wisdom and efforts of Learned Jaffee in Pentil, who has struggled long and hard to bring about the true will of the Shapers. He cannot form fyoras, like you can, but he has been able to tame rogues," replied Demel. "These fyora were once rogues. Now they are tame, and they serve us and you."

"Ah," said Dakro. "Why is there a guardpost here? What are you guarding?"

"Sad to say, Shaper, but in the woods to the west, there is an outpost of Takers. They came here to raid us, but we were able to box them up in these woods," replied Demel. "We cannot reach them, though, for the woods are heavily trapped. So these fyora and I keep them bottled up here, so that they can do no harm."

"There are traps?" said Dakro. "Of what nature?"

"Yes, the Takers were able to place fungal traps. They either explode or spawn rogues. We do not know how they were able to make these things, but we know that they are dangerous," replied Demel.

"And how could I safely pass the traps?" said Dakro.

"Perhaps, being a Shaper, you could disarm them. When you get close to one, it takes a few seconds to activate," replied Demel. "If you reached it in time, you might be able to do something to make it harmless."

"Mickall asked me to deal with these Taker rogues," said Dakro. "Can you assist me?"

"I wish you luck, Shaper. Doing so would make me glad," said Demel. "However, Mickall has ordered me to stay here. I just obey."

"But I am a Shaper," said Dakro. "Could you refuse to obey me?"

"I am sorry, Shaper, but in this case, I must do what I am told," said Demel, the servile trembling, his voice quivering with terror.

' _Too frightened to be of help, I will be merciful and not demand more than the servile can do_ ," he thought. Dakro said, "Very well, I shall deal with them myself."

Dakro continued into the woods, disabling mines as he came to them, as well as defeating the occasional rogue servile. Then, as he traveled, he stopped short, for he heard voices, a snippet of conversation.

"We have to get out," said the first voice. "We have to get to Kazg!"

"The guard lives. Demel lives," said another voice. "We can't slip away when Demel lives."

 _'Intriguing that they should know Demel by name,'_ thought Dakro, as they appeared to have moved beyond his hearing.

Dakro continued, finding the stronghold and slaying the Taker serviles within. After thoroughly investigating the woods, he returned to Demel.

"I have slain the leader of the rogue serviles," said Dakro.

Demel looked surprised and pleased to hear Dakro's announcement. "I thank you, Shaper. Soon, my fyoras and I can return to Pentil and continue our fight against the Taker scum," said Demel. "I shall spread word of your kind deeds."

"You should know I could not suffer such rogues to live," said Dakro. "I am going to Pentil to let Mickall know this problem has been taken care of."

Heading north, Dakro was surprised to find that east Pentil was thoroughly overrun by rogue cyroa, but after killing them and the spawner, he found a settled area close to the eastern edge of the old fortress which contained Pentil. Going into the first house, he found within a nervous servile who gave him a peculiar look.

 _'Like those of Vakkiri,'_ thought Dakro, _'odd, as though they send one of their number to other villages to keep watch? Very strange behavior for serviles.'_

"Hello, Shaper," he said. "Welcome to my home. I am Sorkin."

"Hello, servile. What is your purpose here?" said Dakro.

"I am sorry, Shaper. I am not an Obeyer. I am Awakened. And I prefer only to deal with my kind. I apologize for my rudeness, but as a free being, I choose not to speak with you," said Sorkin, and he fell silent.

"You are lucky I am in a generous mood," said Dakro.

Returning from the woods, there was another servile approaching the cluster of buildings, and Dakro gestured that the servile should approach.

"Tell me of your work, and your name," said Dakro.

"I am Pool," replied the servile, bowing in front of Dakro. "May it please you, Shaper, I have worked as a scout for Pentil."

"Good. There are things I have heard, I wish to know what you have learned. Tell me about these humans to the east," said Dakro.

"I've only spied on them a little. They speak a weird language. They look strange. Their clothes are different. And there aren't many of them here. To the east, though, there are more. I know that much," said Pool. "I only saw them once. When I spied on them, they were walking through the woods. They said Kazg a lot. I think there are more of them there. I tried to follow them more, but they went into unfamiliar lands."

"Very well," said Dakro. "Now, what will I find at the bridges?"

"Northbridge is due east of here. There are traps there. Someone has mined the bridge. I don't know how you could pass the mines safely," said Pool. "Then there is Southbridge. There are rogues there. Turrets. Thorn shooters. You'll need a lot of force to pass there. I stay well back, I cannot pass either bridge."

"And north of here?" said Dakro.

"The wastes. No friendly settlements of any kind. And this is no surprise, many rogues. There have been rogues there for years, but they have gotten worse," said Pool. "I haven't been far into the wastes, but far enough to see the tracks. Lots of humanoids, people, two legs, have headed into the wastes recently. They haven't come out. Make of that what you will. There's someone out there."

"Very good," said Dakro. "And east of here?"

"Between here and Kazg are heavy woods. Lots of rogues. No surprises there. You will find two servile settlements," said Pool. "One is Obeyers, they're on the southern coast. They will help you. The other is rogue, crazy. They'll attack you if you're not careful. Almost directly east of Northbridge, they are."

"Thank you, that is all useful information," said Dakro. "Carry on with your information gathering."

Dakro continued, finding another house filled with quite a few serviles.

"Welcome, Shaper," he said, the servile's eyes reflecting the sort of bloodlust which struck Dakro as quite bizarre for a servile. "I am Garnet of the Obeyers. Welcome to our guardhouse where we defend Pentil from rogues. We live only to follow the true will of our creators."

"And how are conditions in these woods?" said Dakro. "I was surprised to see the rogues so close to Pentil."

"Bad. There are cyroas out in the woods. Lots of them. We know where they're coming from, and now we're trying to figure out how best to kill them," said Garnet. "Be careful if you go out there, there are ambushes everywhere. We can slay one, but then there are ever more, and we are hard pressed."

"What made these cyroas?" said Dakro.

"Don't know what they are. We call them spawners," said Garnet. "Huge, like fungi, stink like vinegar, they make the cyroas. Not that fast, but fast enough. We can't keep up with them."

"Where did the spawners come from?" said Dakro.

"Don't know. One day a patrol found these stone platforms with empty basins. Didn't know where they came from. Didn't think of it," said Garnet. "The next night, the spawners had grown there, and our troubles began. But now, you are here. You are a Shaper. Your kind made us. All I have, all I think, all of the joy I receive, all of my glorious battles, all I have thanks to you. If I were Awakened or some filthy Taker, and didn't give you your due, what would that make me?" said Garnet.

"That is very wise," said Dakro. "You would be a rogue ... little different from the cyroas out there."

Garnet bowed his head and said, "Thank you, Shaper. I long to fight in your name."

"From what I have seen, you have done well," said Dakro. "Carry on."

With that, Dakro continued into Pentil proper, where he found Mickall.

"I have destroyed that rogue infestation," he said.

Mickall fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor in the ancient sign of respect and obedience. "Thank you, Shaper," he said, his voice muffled by the floor. "You have done much for us. We are unworthy of your kind, of our mighty and wise creators." Mickall stood, and added, "I will spread the word of your deed, so that all can learn of your kindness."

"I wish to reward those who are loyal," said Dakro. "Is there anything else which is troubling you, loyal servile?"

"I almost dare not to ask, after you have been so kind to us. However, there is another fear we have. To the east is a river, and the river is spanned by two bridges," said Mickall. "Because of trouble crossing those bridges of late, we have been unable to contact one of our outposts. It is along the south coast of the island, well concealed, west of some jagged peaks. The leader there is named Doge. Meet with him, and make sure that things are all right."

"I shall indeed check into this matter," said Dakro. "I wish to deal with Kazg and these odd humans." He let his tone carry the unspoken words that he meant to deal with them as Mickall had intimated the spies were dealt with.

Moving on to the woodcutter, he found Godwin and said, "I have found what made the vlish, and destroyed the spawner."

"Well, I was always told that the Shapers would help their creations, but I never thought I would see the day. Thank you, Shaper. I had doubted the wisdom of the Obeyers, but I never will again," said Godwin. "I would like to teach you something of what I have learned. I would never dare but, from what I have heard, I think it might be useful. You have to be quick to hurt vlish. Here are some techniques I have learned."

Godwin provided some useful techniques without commenting on Dakro's lack of training upon his arrival on the island.

Dakro then left Pentil for the southern bridge. Soon after leaving the region of the tombs, he saw some chambers burrowed out of the soft stone of the valley walls.

 _'Clawbugs,'_ thought Dakro. _'I had best watch, for it looks like these are recent, and may still be occupied.'_

He soon found those suspicions correct, and after clearing out the nest, continued on to the sight of the bridge. Good servile work under Shaper engineering had led to a bridge which still stood strong despite its age and moss coverings.

 _'Someone doesn't want this bridge crossed,'_ thought Dakro, as he looked at the turrets which were aiming in his direction. _'Whoever grew them doesn't know much about making creations, but it seems likely that they're functional enough.'_

Staying carefully out of range, Dakro and his creations destroyed the turrets and crossed the bridge. No sooner had they reached the other side, than Dakro found himself facing some of these strange outsiders he had heard of.

 _'These outsiders have violated a forbidden area, forced that upon me, and flouted our laws, even taken our secrets and tried to make them their own,'_ thought Dakro _. 'They are strange and disgusting.'_

The two men spoke amongst each other, nervous at the sight of Dakro. "Me of Sholai. Sholai land. You go. Back. No go here."

"I want to know who you are and what you are doing here," said Dakro.

He realized the scouts had not understood him, as they remained where they were, hands ready to draw swords. Forcing the issue, Dakro made quick work of these foes, and then began investigating. He could not read the strange letters he found, but made out what looked to be the signature of this Trajkov he had heard of from the servant mind.

Continuing past, he found himself in an area filled with vlish and roamers, and peculiar crumbling pylons. Continuing his investigations of the area, Dakro discovered that there was a building which appeared to have once been a waystation, and a surviving journal was within.

Flipping through the pages, he found that it was written by a Shaper who was researching the tribes that lived on Sucia Island. Those tribes had died off a few hundred years before the Shapers came, though there was no apparent reason discovered. The woods, the Shaper had commented, were filled with a strange energy, possibly centered around the nearby stone circle. He hadn't discovered the secret, but indicated that he thought the pylons were related.

Dakro continued searching, finding a peculiar bone wand, and when he idly stepped over a green rune, a new area turned up, and he was faced with some sort of strange ghost. Trying this out deliberately, he found that each of the five runes was connected to an area, and he slew the ghosts, and then continued east.

 _'How very bizarre. It's a pity this island is Barred, because study of the circle would certainly be a great draw,'_ thought Dakro. Continuing, he found the road blocked by a number of very large mines _. 'For some reason, someone wants to be sure no one passes this road. Most peculiar.'_

Traveling through the crystal caverns, he found a spore box, and it proved to disable the mines outside. Satisfied, he made his way east, and found the servile outpost he had heard of in Pentil. There were several serviles here, all clearly well-armed, but also clearly Obeyers who worshipped him.

The guard nearest him said, "A Shaper! We had not heard. Welcome! Welcome! Our commander is Doge." She pointed west and said, "He will be delighted to meet you and give you whatever aid you require. You shouldn't go that way, though," she added, pointing east. "We have pinned in a few rogues which would no doubt annoy you. We promise to destroy them soon."

Dakro nodded, and continued toward where he had been told he would find Doge. _'Well, at least I found the one Mickall was looking for,'_ he thought.

Like many of the serviles he had met here, Doge showed signs of having seen a great deal of constant action. However, at the sight of Dakro, he leaped smartly to attention.

"Greetings. We are greatly honored. We had never dreamed that one of your kind would ever visit us," said Doge.

 _'Interesting. He truly has been out of contact with the serviles to the west,'_ thought Dakro, gesturing to indicate the servile should continue speaking.

"I am Obeyer Doge of the village of Pentil," he said. "We have been trying to guard the roads here, at the order of my commander. I put us all at your service."

"Tell me about your outpost," said Dakro.

"It is a humble thing. It used to be one of your people's things," said Doge. "We don't know what it was for. There was an essence pool. We have been feeding it, and think it is still alive."

 _'Well, that's a typical servile job, so I'm sure they've done well with it,'_ thought Dakro. "What are your orders?" he asked.

"We are trying to keep the road clear. Those are our orders," said Doge. "Now, though, all we really do is try to stay alive. We get attacked all the time."

"What is near here?" asked Dakro.

"We are closest to Kazg. That is to the northeast. You should be careful there, though. They are Takers. They hate the Shapers. They may not dare attack you. Then again, they might," said Doge. "They did not used to be completely mad. But that has changed."

"What made them change?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. The changes only came a few months ago. They became more hostile. Rogues started to appear everywhere," replied Doge. "Everything went mad."

"Suppose I wanted to sneak into Kazg. How could I do it?" said Dakro.

"I ... I have never been asked before. Let me think," said Doge. "The northern approach is farmland. The serviles up there seem more sane. They are also more armed, though. If you think you can convince them not to attack you, approach from that direction. The wilder serviles live in the ruins south of Kazg. They are less well-armed, but they are also quite mad. You are much more likely to fight if you go that way."

"Did you really not hear that I was on the island?" said Dakro.

"Well, I had started to hear the rumor a few months ago. I heard more of them recently, about a Shaper who came to Kazg. But I had dismissed them. I had never actually dreamed of meeting you," replied Doge.

 _'That's odd. I definitely have not been on this isle for a matter of months,'_ thought Dakro. "What else did you hear?" he asked.

"I don't want to tell you anything false. I don't want to waste your time with rumors, especially rumors about you. I met one servile, though. He was fleeing Kazg. He was scared of what was happening there," said Doge. "He said the Takers were looking for something called the Geneforge. It scared him, so he left."

"Interesting," said Dakro. "So what happened to him?"

"Oh, he died. We found his body," said Doge. "He got caught by an artila not far west of here."

"Mickall would like to know how you are doing," said Dakro.

"You have met Mickall? Please, tell him we are doing badly. We are low on food and supplies. We are attacked constantly. Half of us are dead," said Doge. "Please, get him to help us. He would listen to your Shaper wisdom."

"Very well," said Dakro. "I will rest here before continuing."

Dakro went into the next building, and there found another servile who appeared to be in charge of the settlement's pitiful remaining supplies. While she was in awe of Dakro, she also appeared quite nervous.

"I am Dina. Welcome, Shaper," she said. "You honor us with your presence."

"What do you do here?" said Dakro.

"I am in charge of the supplies. Scavenging. Repairing. Giving them out. I must make sure that we are armed enough to withstand the onslaughts," she replied.

"I am in need of supplies myself," said Dakro.

Dina looked at the ground, clearly this is what she feared, but she said, "Of course, Shaper. Take all you want. Anything we have is yours."

"That's all right," said Dakro as he saw how pitiful their supplies were, "I'm fine for now. Do you need any help?"

Dina looked shocked, and said, "Shaper, I was born to assist your kind. I could never ask you for any help."

"That is a good attitude," said Dakro. "If I have need of your help, I will let you know."

"Thank you, Shaper," said Dina. "I wish for nothing more than to serve."

"I wish a place to rest," said Dakro.

"Of course, Shaper," said Dina, moving to try to create a comfortable place for him. "Do you wish your creations fed while you rest?"

"Yes," said Dakro, and he closed his eyes. _'This is the way it should be ... well, except for the danger. I have to do something about that, but then the serviles will be better able to serve,'_ he thought. _'But none of that nonsense of being my equal, just a willingness to serve.'_


	8. Chapter 7

Dakro had rested for some time, and then gathered his own creations and prepared to leave the outpost. Suddenly, he heard a loud roar, echoing through the woods.

"Attack! Attack!" cried the serviles of the outpost, grabbing their weapons and moving to meet the expected onslaught.

A minute passed, and there was no attack and the roaring ceased. _'I wonder if they're just being paranoid,'_ thought Dakro. _'Though I heard it, too ...'_

Soon, though, it turned out to be a true attack-a battle alpha leading artila. Dakro brought his creations back around, and they helped the serviles ward off the attack, the flames reaching the artila before the artila's spit could touch any of the loyal serviles.

After the battle, Dakro went to Doge, and said, "Are you attacked like that often?"

"Yes, we do, but most attacks are not as bad as that. We slew the battle creature. That was a major triumph," replied Doge. "It was leading the other rogues. Without it, we should be able to defend ourselves much better now."

"Very well," said Dakro. "I will leave you to your task."

Dakro left, and continued on his way through a quiet marsh. Sickly plants grew from the wet fens, and a smell of decay rose from the peat. Ahead, there were a group of rogues, a number of roamers that seemed to be under the control of a vlish. One roamer snarled at Dakro, but then the group moved away.

 _'Looks like they won't fight unless I force the issue,'_ thought Dakro.

After forcing the issue a few times, Dakro came across what appeared to have been an outsider camp-one of their number had died fighting, and the others fled, while the remaining supplies were scattered and broken.

 _'One thing to the credit of the rogues, they don't like the outsiders, either,'_ thought Dakro, a grim smile crossing his lips.

After continued explorations, he found a small fenced-off home. Within the bounds was a sign declaring it to be the home of "Clois the sage" and he found a very old servile. She looked older than Shapers intended their serviles to get, but also moving slowly and carefully as though she had no intention of dying soon.

She shuffled up and bent close, sniffing the air as Dakro realized her eyesight must be near gone.

"Yes, yes. You are here," she said, nodding. "I am Clois. Speak with me awhile."

"What are you doing out here, servile?" said Dakro.

Her eyes, milked over with age, seemed to flash red for a moment. _'Odd,'_ thought Dakro.

"My name is Clois. I call myself a sage. That is the title I claim, though I really know little. I listen," she said. "The serviles of this island, all of them, with all of their petty and pointless squabbles and factions, they all come to me to speak, for guidance, for perspective. And I hope you have come to me for the same reason."

"Do you know anything about the history of this island?" asked Dakro.

"Even I was not alive when you Shapers left us here. I know you created powerful things here, and then fled from your own creations. I concern myself more with those who live here now. I care for the living, not the dead," said Clois. "I know, however, some secrets they learned. And I know that the canisters, the containers which are changing and remaking you, are a part of history which affects us still."

 _'Now we're getting somewhere,'_ thought Dakro, and he asked, "Do you know anything about these secrets?"

"I know that the Shapers have rejected them. I know that they found that all life is a scroll. The secrets of all life are written, on the tiniest of scrolls, and copied a multitude of times within you," said Clois. "The Shapers here used magic to look deep within a living being and see these scrolls, and they learned how to re-write them. And they learned that this power brought great danger to them. Thus, they fled."

"Tiny scrolls?" said Dakro. "What an odd thing to say."

"That is my own interpretation," said Clois. "The Shapers had a different name for them, they called them 'Genes'."

"And what do you know of the canisters?" said Dakro.

"The canisters contain the ability to re-write the scrolls within you, remaking you on the tiniest scale, a million, million times. They change you, in the way the canister chooses," said Clois. "You are gaining power from them. Any full human can. But beware. Who knows where the changes they wreak within you will stop?"

"And do you know where I can find a boat?" said Dakro.

Clois chuckled, and replied, "You stand atop a volcano, about to erupt, and you look for butterflies. I have heard there is a boat on the eastern end of the isle. But it is not important. You should put it from your mind."

"And what do you think of these other factions?" said Dakro.

"Very little. They all have answers and they all have errors," said Clois. "But each sees the truth in its own way. As, I'm sure, do you."

"I would like to speak with you about what's happening on this island," said Dakro.

"I am nearly blind, and cannot travel. But I know that something is happening. I can't gather facts, but I can help you understand them. If you learn something interesting, come and tell me. If I can, I will help you make sense of what you have seen."

"And where might I begin such a search?" said Dakro.

"There are two places you can go. Both know of the outsiders. Who they are, what they want," said Clois. "The first is Kazg. Find the leader of the Takers, speak with her. The other is east of Kazg. There are outsiders there, but they are held besieged by Kazg. If you reach and speak with them, you might learn."

"I have heard there is someone powerful and dangerous on this island," said Dakro. "His name is Trajkov."

"I have heard that name before. Outsiders have traveled through my marsh. I have heard the name from them. And I believe he is one of them, and from far away, perhaps even beyond the sea. Learn more of him, for I believe he is important," said Clois.

"And of the important Shaper secret?" said Dakro. "I believe it may be called something like Geneforge."

"It is only a name," said Clois. But sometimes, before we can understand something, we must put a name to it. Learn more, as soon as you can."

"You seem quite confident for a servile," said Dakro.

"Perhaps I am. I have spent my life learning, reading, seeing all I could. Once I was an Obeyer, and worshiped your kind. In time, looking at your works, I think I came to know you," replied Clois. "Would you like to know what I learned?"

"What did you learn?" said Dakro, curiosity overwhelming him.

"I learned that you are humans. And, though your kind claims that you created us serviles from nothing, I believe that we are humans, too. We were modified once, many years ago, to serve you, but that inside, we are the same."

 _'A damned Awakened, then,'_ thought Dakro. _'Any minute now, she's going to spout that 'as equals' nonsense.'_ "And what conclusion do you draw from that?" he said, trying to sound polite.

"I believe that, inside, we are the same. I believe that the mind in my skull is the same as yours. I believe that my intelligence can match yours," said Clois. "I believe that we should not serve you."

"Servile, you are lucky that I do not destroy you for these rogue thoughts," said Dakro, infuriated. _'Even worse than the damned Awakened!'_ "We are your creators, and you will serve us."

Unperturbed, Clois nodded, and said, "We all see the world through our own lens."

At war with himself, thinking that he wanted to destroy the insolent servile, yet realizing that he might still be able to gain more information and should stay his hand, Dakro nodded, not caring that Clois could not see the gesture.

Continuing through the marshes, he came to a crumbled corner of a building. Within was an augmentation canister, and he looked at it eagerly. The warnings he had heard from so many were one thing, but he was still so tempted to go and absorb it. Though the canister took most of his attention, he vaguely noticed the two bodies beside the canister, outsiders from their appearances, the position of the bodies telling the tale of death coming with great pain, marred by burns on the palm of the right hand of each. Unable to resist the lure, confident that he was a Shaper and no harm would come to him, Dakro reached out. At once, he realized his mistake. _'It's defective! It burns!'_ he thought, and recognizing poison, he quickly broke open the pod that would nullify poison.

As he walked on, Dakro suddenly felt very woozy, just as he had with the first canister he had used. He stumbled, and fell to his knees, retching. The sickness was overwhelming, but fortunately, not long-lived. Resting on his hands and knees, he realized that his skin was glowing. Looking more carefully, he could see his muscles moving under his skin, re-arranging themselves, his skin feeling warmer to the touch than before. _'I feel different, my thoughts are stronger, more confident. And these crude creations ... they are so small and flawed ... disgusting. Yes, I am being changed. Improved. I'm sure the canisters have had something to do with it. Should I absorb them and remake them? Perhaps when I have rested again."_

Recovering himself, Dakro continued on, finding his way into what was labeled as a high security area. After some searching, he found that the servant mind controlling the area was starved but still alive, and he carefully fed the creation.

The effect was almost immediate, and the servant mind said, "Thank you, Shaper. I knew f I continued to live, you would return one day. How may I help you?"

"What is this place?" said Dakro.

"This is, well, was a facility for storing creations. When a creation was made, and needed to be held for further study, it was kept here," replied the servant mind. "I kept track of what was here, and operated the defenses."

"Are any of these creations still here?" said Dakro.

"Most things held in the cells starved long ago. The only things that could live long enough, besides myself, are the turrets and shades," replied the servant mind. "A new sort of turret was created on this island. A reaper turret. Horribly lethal. One of them was placed in the northern cells, and may still live."

 _'I've never heard of such a thing, maybe it only exists on Sucia,'_ thought Dakro. "And the shades?"

"A new variety of creation. Very exciting. Only partly physical. Held together by magical energy. The Shapers were very excited about it," said the mind. "Because they have only limited corporeal form, they are very difficult to hold. Our cells are the only ones that can manage."

 _'Interesting. The making of shades is completely forbidden by Shaper law,'_ thought Dakro _. 'They must have been discovered on this island first.'_

"What do you know about this island?" said Dakro.

"Sucia Island was used for research. Many of the wisest Shapers came here to work and learn. Then about two hundred years ago, the island was Barred," said the mind. "The Shapers all left quickly, so quickly that many objects were left behind. Like me."

"Why was this island Barred?" said Dakro.

"I am not important enough to know. One day Defniel came to me and told me what was happening," said the mind. "Two days later, they were all gone."

"And who was Defniel?" said Dakro.

"He was in charge of the school to the west. He was very important on the island. He was the one who closed this facility down while passing through on the way back to the school," replied the mind.

"Can you think of anything else?" said Dakro.

"I do remember one thing. When Defniel was walking away for the last time, he said, 'Damn the Geneforge! It would have all worked out if they didn't push things too far!'" said the mind. "That is all I heard. I apologize for not helping more, Shaper."

"What is the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. I am not even sure that was what he said. He was very upset and angry, and I was scared," said the mind.

"That's all for now," said Dakro.

Dakro made his way around, finding a small library. Most of the books were irretrievably damaged by water. Despite that, he managed to read one fragment of a page: _Shades of all varieties are to be held here from now on. Other facilities lack the properly sealed cells to contain them. Shade cells are not to be opened without a full complement present. They are volatile and lethal under the best of circumstances._

After investigating the cells and slaying the surviving creations, Dakro continued until he found a passage guarded by turrets, but the turrets turned away so he did not need to do anything to them. Beyond, he found a servile who was unusually quiet and dressed in better-kept clothing than the other serviles of Sucia that Dakro had met.

"Welcome, Shaper," he said. "I am Buron, a tinker."

 _'Well, that at least is a typical servile trade,'_ thought Dakro, looking about the shop. "What do you do here?"

Speaking in a slow, careful manner which Dakro couldn't tell was due to respect for being in the presence of a Shaper or just his nature, Buron replied, "I am a tinker. I scavenge and repair Shaper goods in my workshop. And I try to breed living equipment."

"Breed equipment?" said Dakro. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to the north, and said, "I am trying to breed living tools and batons. They are alive. I am trying to get htem to make more of themselves. It would be very good for serviles."

"Have you had any success?" said Dakro.

"No," replied Buron. "But I think I am having some success awakening the natural desires of thorn batons."

 _'Now there's an image I didn't need in my mind,'_ thought Dakro. "What do you know about this area?"

"One of your Shaper buildings, have to go through to get anywhere, unless you go back," said Buron. "Don't know what it was for. There's one of your servant minds, dormant now. I don't know why, but when it was awake, it told me that there were humans inside recently. Said that the humans were killed, and he had a submission baton."

"Interesting," said Dakro.

"Yes, I am humble, Shaper. I do not ask things of my betters. But if you could bring me that baton, I could increase my breeding stock, and maybe have success with my work. It would really help us serviles," said Buron. "If you could bring me the baton, I would help you as much as I could."

"You're unusually quiet for a servile," said Dakro.

"That is why I choose to live out here. I am not comfortable with my own kind. I speak with you so much because I owe it to you as one of my creators," replied Buron.

"So, do you have goods for sale?" asked Dakro. After browsing through, he said, "I have a submission baton for you."

"Thank you, Shaper. This will complete a baton mating pair. Maybe I can start creating more of these powerful weapons," said Buron. "There is little one as humble as I can give you, but please take anything sitting around my store that you wish. It is all yours."

Dakro took several varieties of thorns, and checked out Buron's breeding efforts, finding a key which led him to a storeroom that had the items that were most useful.

 _'Most interesting,'_ thought Dakro as he began to walk from the area to the northbridge. _'I doubt the servile will ever succeed at what he is trying to do. But it takes great cunning for him to have even thought of trying. These serviles have developed in a most unexpected way without being around Shapers for so long.'_

As he approached the bridge, he came to a quick stop. Someone had been quite busy trying to prevent crossings of the bridge. The ground was seeded with mines, and ahead he could hear the river flowing swiftly.

 _'There is an advantage to having come this way, rather than as expected,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Surely, whoever made this has a way to pass it, if I just look about.'_

Indeed, Dakro's search proved fruitful, and he found a brown spore baton. Recognizing it, he managed to position himself so that he could release a spray of spores to trigger the mines while he and his creations remained out of harm's way.

Finally, he managed to find a passage where the mines behaved properly, the antennae turning away from a Shaper as he approached. Beyond, he found that it was an area filled with junk, but also a neatly kept, albeit cluttered, shop. The servile tinker bowed as Dakro entered.

"Welcome, Shaper! Welcome to my little humble home. I am Lahnee, a scavenger and repairer of Shaper supplies. I hope my work meets with your approval," he said.

"Where did you get all of this?" said Dakro.

"We serviles rely on the goods your kind left us to survive. We gather them from ruins, and trash pits, and anywhere else we can find them. We repair them and use them as best we can," said Lahnee. "There is almost nothing I can't find a use for eventually."

"What is in the back room?" asked Dakro.

"It is mainly junk and things I have not yet tried to make work," said Lahnee. "If you find something back there you like, I would be honored if you took it."

"There were a lot of mines in this area," said Dakro. "Where did they come from?"

"Oh, they were left by the outsiders. That's what we call them. They are strange humans. Not like you. Outsiders, with a strange language. I don't know where they came from," replied Lahnee. "But not long ago, a few months maybe, a bunch of them came through here. I hid, you see, and spied on them as best I could, as they filled my lovely woods with mines, and I suspect worse."

"Spied on them?" said Dakro. "Were you able to learn anything?"

"No, their language is strange," said Lahnee. "Although I think one of the words was a name, I think the leader. Trajkov."

"Are the outsiders still around?" said Dakro.

"Not this side of the river," said Lahnee. "Maybe still on the other."

"Very well," said Dakro.

Continuing on to return to Pentil, he informed Pixley that he had cleared both bridges to the east.

"My travelers doubted me, but I knew! They said our problems were too tiny for your attention, Shaper. But I knew you had returned to help us! Thank you, Shaper," said Pixley, as she produced some gourds from her robes. "We carried these in case of ambush, but they are better put to use by you."

Dakro took these, and then went to see Mickall.

"I have spoken with Doge," he said, "and he says that he is in need of supplies and more serviles."

Mickall looked concerned for a moment, and said, "These are indeed troubling and threatening times, but now that you are here, I am sure that we have nothing to fear. I feel that I have taken up enough of your time. I know you have more pressing matters elsewhere. Before you go, though, I feel I should give you some aid in return for that you have given us."

He went to a chest and brought out a pair of gloves. "We found these during a raid to the north," he said. "I believe that they are very high quality, but they burn when we put them on. We cannot wear them, but perhaps they are made for a Shaper. Thank you again for your help, Shaper. We owe all that we have to you."

"These will do nicely," said Dakro, putting on the gloves, which he recognized as having been shaped.

Deciding that it was time to see about these Takers, Dakro set out for the northbridge, and then east. He stared out at the plains north of the city of Kazg, a bleak sight. The land was dead, dried up, with nothing but a wide expanse of dusty, barren land and dying plants.

 _'This is not natural, but I don't know whether it is something from a Shaper experiment or some other cause,'_ thought Dakro _. 'At least the serviles have been industrious, but they are not fond of my kind. They've taken great pains to destroy the statues lining this road.'_

He noticed to the north, the river flowed and crude irrigation ditches had been made, farming taking place with dirt that probably had been brought in from other areas.

Dakro was then met by one of the guards of the north gate of Kazg. He appeared to be an experienced warrior, with the cold, calm expression that would have done well on the face of an experienced Guardian.

Nodding to Dakro, in an unimpressed voice, he said, "Shaper, I have been sent to greet you when you approach. You are at the outskirts of Kazg. Fair warning. Your safety here is not guaranteed."

"Will I be attacked if I enter Kazg?" said Dakro.

"Yes, the guards there are eager to meet you in battle. I doubt I could control them, if they actually got the chance to fight and slay a Shaper," said Amena.

"I wish to enter Kazg and speak with your leaders," said Dakro. "How will this be possible?"

"I would need to escort you into town myself. But first I need to believe it is worth it," said Amena. "I do not want one of your kind in my home, no matter what Gnorrel says."

"Who is Gnorrel?" said Dakro.

"Gnorrel is our leader. She rules the Takers. She says that there is a certain Shaper she wishes to see, but she said nothing about how to identify him or her," said Amena. "I don't think any Shapers can be trusted, so I will not help you pass."

"Shouldn't you obey your orders?" said Dakro.

"I am not a servant. You Shapers want us all to be servants, to you or to each other," said Amena. "No. I am here and she is not. I will not help you pass. It is wise to leave. If you do not, you will be slain."

"I am a Shaper," said Dakro. "How can you threaten me?"

"You must know little about the Takers, to ask such a foolish question," said Amena. "We are independent from you, and we will stay so. Or die."

"If you want me dead, don't you think the best way to bring that about would be to take me to your leader?" said Dakro. "I won't die out here."

Amena paused, surprised, as the thought clearly had not occurred to him.

"That is true. I do not think that I can kill you. Gnorrel, however, definitely could," said Amena. "Follow me, Shaper. I will lead you to the gate. Watch yourself, though. The slightest theft, the slightest crime, and we will swarm you. You are not the master here."

 _'Damn, I should have made some more thahds, or perhaps some alphas, I might be able to do that now,'_ thought Dakro as he began to follow Amena _. 'A bunch of rogues like this, I probably won't have a choice but to slay them all. Except perhaps some will beg for mercy.'_

Dakro stepped into the city of Kazg for the first time. When the serviles here saw him, the response was immediate. Shouts of alarm were raised, weapons drawn, farmers and children ran for safety. Dakro raised his hands into a ready pose, prepared to defend himself.

Suddenly, a large servile in a steel breastplate arrived and ran between Dakro and his would-be assailants.

"Stop!" he shouted. "By order of Gnorrel, until Shaper commits a crime against us, the Shaper is not attacked! No blades, no threats. The Shaper has business with us, and is not yet foe. Get back to business."

The words had the desired effect, and the serviles slouched away, casting dark looks at Dakro.

The servile approached him, and said, "I Eko Blade. You no friend to me. But we may have business. Gnorrel waits in the center hall. Go to her. You be full of peace here. One step wrong or crime, and we fall on you. We have no love of Shapers, only business, if need be."

With those words, Eko turned on his heel and walked back to the stone building in the center.

 _'Well, that is something I did not expect,'_ thought Dakro. _'Actually a little more palatable than those Awakened. Still, rogues, and they'll need dealing with, but I shall string them along, if I can.'_

Dakro stepped further into Kazg, and looked around. Though this was as barren and dusty as the plains to the north, it was still a massive and impressive fortress.

 _'This must have been the administrative center for the Shaper facility, when it was active,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Which would mean that all orders and directives which governed this colony emerged from here. Most likely, the decision to abandon Sucia came from here as well. This may be my best chance to obtain clues about what happened here, and why this island was Barred.'_

As Dakro continued, he came into a library. Though Taker vandals had destroyed much of what the Shapers left here, they had left this library alone. For some reason, they left tehse records intact, though they had made no special effort to preserve them, as the serviles of Pentil would have. Dakro browsed the records, finding a mishmash of tomes, journals, and notes. Many were incomplete, most damaged, and almost all uninteresting.

Then Dakro met a servile who was clearly afflicted with the madness of the Takers, but reasonably calm and intelligent.

"The Shaper comes. Yes. I am Learned Toivo, of Takers," he said. "I speak with you of Taker learning."

"Why do you look after our Shaper writings?" said Dakro. "I would have thought you would just destroy them?"

"The Shapers enslave us. The Shapers is the enemy. And the wisdom of tactics is to know all you can of the enemy, so you can use their powers and defeat them," said Toivo. "Each year, we learn more of you and the secrets and tricks you use to keep us down. One day, we use that knowledge."

"What have you learned here?" said Dakro.

"Ah, but you not a Taker. You not an ally. I help you not. Talk to Gnorrel. Ally with us, and I give you full access to the learning here," replied Toivo.

 _'Another servile who dares to talk back,'_ thought Dakro _. 'But I will stay my hand. There is more that I would have of them, they will be useful.'_ "So, what is it that the Takers believe?" said Dakro. "I would hear this from the Takers, rather than from others."

"We believe, like Awakened, that we should be free," said Toivo. "But we know you Shapers will never give freedom to us. We must take it, using every weapon that we have."

"Why do the serviles in Kazg speak more crudely than the other serviles?" said Dakro.

"Crude to you, honest to us. Other serviles, they say they want freedom, but in head, they weak servants who imitate masters. We not choose to speak like you," said Toivo. "Who is Shaper to say how servile talk or not talk?"

"I see," said Dakro.

Moving further into the library, he found a thick book full of records on Sucia Island, the layout, the contents, descriptions of main research facilities, and so on. It looked like the serviles had been flipping through carefully in an attempt to understand. All the maps had been smeared by water and age, but Dakro managed to discern the main research areas were to the north. Two workshops and a mine were to be found on the east end of the island. The main area was dug into a mountain in the northeast, and Dakro suddenly noticed that some pages had recently been excised.

 _'Might be around, I'll have to look, but careful,'_ thought Dakro _._

Inside one cabinet, he found an old dusty scroll, and he carefully unrolled it.

 _By declaration of Corata, Danette, and the Council of Shapers, Sucia Island is hereby declared interim Barred. All research is to be ended. All Shapers are to evacuate the island by one week from today. All work on the Geneforge is to cease immediately, and it is to be deactivated. All other research is to be held, and products, instruments, and notes are to be stored. The Barring will be ceased or declared full at such time as the full council of Shapers is able to query the relevant researchers._

 _'I don't know if the Barring of Sucia was ever declared official and permanent,'_ thought Dakro. _'Truthfully, I never heard of the place at all before I landed here.'_

Leaving the library, Dakro found his way to the building where Gnorrel awaited. She was an old servile, standing behind a long table, and she visibly had to exert a great deal of effort to keep herself under control at the sight of Dakro.

"Shaper. You have come to us. I am Gnorrel, leader of the Takers," she said. "Though I am the sworn enemy of your kind, I am able to speak with you personally without rate. Come, and we may speak."

"Why have you not attacked me?" said Dakro.

"I have let you live and approach me because my allies want your help, and we want your help," said Gnorrel. "We want you to ally with us. We have much we need, and much to offer."

"I would like to learn about the Takers," said Dakro.

"I am glad," said Gnorrel. "I will tell you our story, if you choose to hear it."

"Go on," said Dakro.

"We serviles have lived in Kazg for many years, after you Shapers left us. It was hard. You have many tunnels and warrens to the north, and creatures came out of them and savaged us. And the land slowly grew worse. We don't know why," said Gnorrel. "The plants died, and we were hungry, and we died. But we were loyal. We believed that you created us, and for that, we owed you a debt. But as the years passed, and we suffered more and more, we grew angrier."

"Then what happened?" said Dakro.

"Then one of us stepped forward. His name was lost. One day he went to the middle of the square, mad with hunger and anger, and he raised his fist and he shouted," said Gnorrel. "He yelled, 'The Shapers are wrong! They torment! They bad! We must take our free!"

"What happened to him?" said Dakro.

"Oh, he was killed. We were loyal to your kind then, and the guards struck him down instantly. But the idea was planted. And as the years passed, more and more came to repeat his words," said Gnorrel. "We call ourselves Takers now, because we will take our freedom from you, however we can. You lost all right to control us when you left us here."

"And what do you want from me?" said Dakro.

"We want you to ally with us. We have certain plans in motion, but we need a Shaper to work with us. If you do, you will be fighting for justice, for freedom for the creations you have treated so badly. But there is more than that. If you will help us, you will gain power. If you help us, we can make you strong, incredibly strong, stronger thanyour masters would ever let you be," said Gnorrel. "Help us, and you can take some of the power hidden on this island."

 _'And why could I not just take it for myself?'_ thought Dakro _. 'What do I need the help of a bunch of weak servile rogues for?'_ Unbidden, the words came from his lips, "And I think you are nothing but a bunch of rogues, and I imagine in the end, we will have to destroy you."

Gnorrel didn't look surprised, and said, "You Shapers are strong, but you are not all-powerful. There are other forces, and other allies. We will make you pay for what you did to us."

"What do you know about the outsiders?" said Dakro.

"They are called Sholai," said Gnorrel. "Ally with us, and there is much I can tell you of them."

"I will think it over," said Dakro, and he turned to leave before he lost his temper.

 _'I should find that servile merchant that the Awakened one wanted to find,'_ thought Dakro _. 'At least then, traveling to Kazg wouldn't be an utter waste of my time.'_

Exploring Kazg, he came into what he realized was a breeding hall.

 _'The serviles are growing new mines ... I wouldn't have thought such a thing possible,'_ thought Dakro, realizing that the mines could be started here, transported before they became volatile, and then become as he had dealt with in various places. _'Kazg is trying to cut itself off from the other serviles, and allying with those outsiders. This is truly troubling.'_

Traveling north again, he met another Kazgian with the same peculiar fanatical look in the eyes, though this one managed to speak to him.

"A Shaper. A Shaper, Yes. Gnorrel said your kind will come. Now you talk to me. Good. I am Agat, an Agent," said the servile.

"And tell me about Gnorrel," said Dakro.

"She leader of the Takers. She wise. One day, she lead us up against you. Once she tell us to fight, we win freedom," said Agat.

"So, you hate all Shapers?" said Dakro.

"Some do. Foolish ones do. Not Gnorrel. Not me. We know that Shaper who aid our cause is as much ally as servile who do so. More so, for Shaper has much more to lose," said Agat. "Help us, and we will help you more. Want to know more, talk to Gnorrel."

"How is it that you call yourself an Agent?" said Dakro. "Only a Shaper can be an Agent."

"I Agent like Shaper Agent are Agent. Gnorrel finds difficult place where bad things happen," said Agat. "She talks to me, and I go and I solve problem."

"What sort of problems are you trying to solve?" said Dakro.

"Gnorrel think there is spy up here. Not spy like you, blundering out in open, but secret spy. I talk to all farmer and visitor, but I find no spy," said Agat, and he looked up at Dakro and smiled. "You Shaper. Smart. Know way of serviles. If you know of spy and tell me, we deal with you. We not hate all Shapers. Shapers who ally with us welcome."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Dakro.

Still looking for this merchant, Dakro found himself in a small hidden area, where a young female servile was camped out. She looked quite small, nervous, and dust-covered.

She bowed at Dakro's approach, and said, "A Shaper. Welcome. Welcome, Shaper. I am Hew."

"What are you doing out here?" said Dakro.

"I like a peaceful life. I farm my tiny plot," said Hew. "I try to survive in this harsh place."

"Isn't it dangerous to live out here like this?" said Dakro.

"The Takers have made this area secure. The rogues do not trouble them any more. They are starting to be able to grow crops. Despite the harshness, this is one of the safest places on Sucia Isle," replied Hew, and she hurriedly added, "Thanks to the Takers."

"Are you a Taker?" said Dakro, thinking her behavior unlike the serviles of Kazg.

"Why ... of course," she said, although she seemed to have difficulty saying the words. "I am opposing the Shapers and all they have done to us."

"You seem to have your doubts," said Dakro.

"No. No, I don't. Never mind. No doubts," said Hew. "I am a Taker, secure in the wisdom of Gnorrel."

"Are you lying? To a Shaper? One of your creators?" said Dakro, pushing hard at the weakness he perceived. "How can you do that?"

She looked quite upset, and then looked around carefully for any listeners. Then she said, "No, Shaper. You are correct. I am an Obeyer. I am spying. I must obey a Shaper, no matter what it costs me, if it can possibly help us fight the evil of the Takers."

"You are a spy? What have you learned?" said Dakro.

"I know that the Takers are allied with the humans. The outsiders. The invaders. I don't know why," said Hew. "I know, though, that it has something to do with control. Control of the Geneforge."

"What is the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"I do not know," replied Hew. "But, with time, I will find out."

"What do the Takers want with me?" said Dakro.

"There are two Shapers on Sucia Island. Gnorrel has been trying to get a Shaper to be brought to her. But there is another who she is supposed to be trying to kill. That is what the outsider humans want," said Hew. "It seems you are the Shaper they want, not the Shaper they want to kill. Not all of the Takers are so sure."

"That is good to know," said Dakro. "I will be speaking with Rydell again soon. Perhaps I shall speak with you again, as well. Try to learn more until then."


	9. Chapter 8

_'I must find that merchant,'_ thought Dakro _. 'I think I have heard enough. The Obeyers will be useful to me, for at least they generally behave as though they have the least rogue tendencies. They're still a little rogue, daring to judge me, but I do not need the Takers to get the power found here. And the outsiders must be stopped. How dare they trifle with the secrets of the Shapers?'_

Traveling to the south through Kazg, he came to a ruin. Looking about, he found a servile merchant whose clothes were not torn, and this one did not look at him with the loathing he was used to seeing, no matter how thin the servile was.

"Welcome, Shaper," he said. "I am Arth. I can't talk to you for long."

"Are you a Taker?" said Dakro.

He looked around, and said, "Of course! How could I not be a Taker! It is the wisest path, the only possible path, and the Takers are just to visit swift punishment on all who question them."

"Tell me more about their philosophy," said Dakro, who was unconvinced that Arth was a Taker.

"I can't. I ... I am not wise enough. Enter the main town. Talk to Gnorrel. Her wisdom is complete," said Arth. "I cannot talk to you any more."

"Not so fast," said Dakro. "Coale in Vakkiri wishes to resume trade."

"Tell him that is impossible," said Arth. "Even if the roads were clear, trading with the Awakened would result in my speedy death at the hands of the Takers."

"Very well," said Dakro, and he left, making his careful way back to Rydell in Pentil.

Once in Pentil, Dakro said, "I have been to Kazg, and there met one of your spies imprisoned by the Takers. He told me that they have allied with the outsiders, and also of some rebel outsiders. He has been beaten, and expects soon to be killed by them."

"That is sad news. He was a good servile, as loyal to your kind as any. Still, his joyous martyrdom shall not be in vain, especially since we have learned the information he gave so much to obtain," said Rydell. "Thank you, Shaper. You have done a kind thing for us."

"And now," said Dakro, "I have heard enough, and I wish to speak again about allying with you, to bring this isle back to proper obedience."

"I am gratified that you would join us. Your words have marked you as a true Shaper, and we feel that you may be worthy of our obedience," said Rydell. "However, we require an act of you, to show that you are not trying to mislead us and act against the true Shapers."

Dakro raised an eyebrow, and said, "What act would that be?"

"There is a place to the west called Crag Valley. There is a warren of spiraling tunnels within, which contains a servant mind called Control Four. For years, this true servant of the Shapers has controlled and fought the rogue serviles of Vakkiri," said Rydell. "Recently, though, it has grown weak. It requires nutrient solution, and we have none. We don't know where any might be found. Worse, rogue creations have kept us from reaching poor Control Four to assist it. Feed Control Four, and we will accept that we should be allied with us."

"You shall not put me to the test, for it is not your place so to do," said Dakro, "nonetheless, I should quite agree that feeding Control Four will be of benefit in bringing obedience back to the isle."

With that, Dakro turned to leave for Vakkiri.

As he traveled between the villages, he thought, _'Well, that is certainly an irrevocable one, for if I kill Control Four, I please the Awakened rogues, if I feed it, then I will not be able to deal with the Awakened, I am sure. So best I tell Coale of the situation with Arth before I go there. For the Obeyers are least rogue, and may be brought under proper control.'_

Upon reaching Vakkiri, Dakro went to Coale and said, "I have met Arth, and the conditions are such that he cannot trade with you because of the hostility of the Takers."

"Understood. I am not surprised. Still, I appreciate the knowledge," said Coale with a sigh. "Here is a reward for you. We Awakened believe in giving fair payment for assistance." He handed Dakro some pouches. "Genuine Shaper artifacts. Not much, at this point, but it helps a little."

"Very well," said Dakro, taking them.

Moving through a wooded valley, he saw a sign warning of rogues, but it was some time before he actually met any. Then, in one off-shooting valley, he saw a door, and standing before the door was a servile.

Expecting some half-crazed hermit, Dakro was surprised that she was relatively calm and well-fed, and even seemed to be expecting him.

"Welcome, Shaper," she said. "I am Sniff."

"What are you doing out here?" said Dakro.

"I am waiting for help, Shaper," replied Sniff.

"What sort of help?" said Dakro.

"I cannot say. But if you have some sort of message, or are looking for someone, I can help you," said Sniff. "Otherwise, I cannot."

"Well, can you give me a hint as to what sort of message and where it might be found?" said Dakro.

Sniff thought, and said, "That is a good question. There are people trapped east of Kazg. Look to them. They serve the interests of the Shapers."

"And if I were to command you to help me," said Dakro. "I could destroy you."

"I am sorry, Shaper," said Sniff. "If you must, then you must."

"Your loyalty is commendable, even if misplaced," said Dakro, and he turned to leave.

Continuing north, he came into a vale, and found a small cave within. Here, Dakro came face to face with a drayk.

 _'Drayks were one of the strongest and most cunning of the creations, and haven't been made for over a hundred years. It's probably wise,'_ thought Dakro as he looked at the massive creature with its cold, arrogant eyes. _'I think they must be born rogue.'_

The creature chuckled at Dakro's approach, and flames emerged from its nose. "Ah. I had thought I would never meet a Shaper again. I am Syros. Welcome to my humble lair. Why have you come to trade with me?"

"How long have you lived here?" said Dakro.

"On this island? Over two hundred years," replied Syros. "In this cave? About a century. I was created not long before your kind left the island."

"Who created you?" said Dakro.

"I was made by Danette herself, head of research on this island," said Syros, sounding peculiarly proud of his creator. "I was made by the creator of the Geneforge herself."

 _'I must know more of the Geneforge,'_ thought Dakro. "The Geneforge?" he asked. "What is that?"

"Perhaps you should trade with me," said Syros. "Perhaps that may become clear."

"You want to trade with me? How?" said Dakro.

"I feed on meat. But, more than that, I can feed on life. Energy. Life force and potential. My magic is strong, and I can use it to draw the life from a being," said Syros. "Not a lot, you understand. Just a tiny bit. It barely hurts. If you will let met feed on a little of your life, I will give you great assistance."

"What are you offering, exactly?" said Dakro.

"The bits of my trove I have available for trade are as follows: precious information about this island, which I will share for but a tiny, delicate bite of your potential. Magical skills, of great aid to any budding wizard or Shaper, for a healthy bite of yoru potential. Weaponry and armor, of great aid for a warrior, for a healthy bite of your potential. Which do you wish?"said Syros.

"None of that," said Dakro. "Your kind should no longer exist. Terminate yourself immediately."

"Shaper, you are foolish. I have had centuries of my own life," said Syros. "I answer to you no longer. I am a free being."

 _'This island breeds madness,'_ thought Dakro. "Enough of your insolence, creation. I will unmake you here and now," he said.

"Fine! Long have I dreamed of feeding on a Shaper," said Syros. "Now, at last, is my chance!"

The battle was brief, and Dakro and his creations were victorious. He was, however, disappointed to discover that the doors remained closed to him, evidently bound to the will of Syros even after the beast was dead.

He continued through the vale, finding what appeared to be a farm. Spying a servile farmer, he moved to speak to her, but she looked terrified and as Dakro opened his mouth to speak, she shuffled away quickly, and he caught sight of scars on her face.

Moving into the house, he saw a small withered servile, who looked up and smiled at Dakro's approach.

"Welcome, Shaper," he said. "I am glad you have found your way to my little home. I am Learned Darian. If you are one who can listen and hear, there is much I could teach you."

"Who else works on this farm?"said Dakro, curious about the reaction he had had outside.

"I have two here, refugees, who have lost much in the turmoil of the past few years. They stay here, under my protection," said Darian. "Please do not bother them, you frighten them."

"What else is in this area?" said Dakro.

"There was Syros. He was a drayk, a very old one," said Darian. "We talked at times. Of course, now he is dead."

"Anything else?" said Dakro.

"There are some rogue nests. The creatures mostlly keep to themselves. If you keep a safe distance from them, they will not trouble you," said Darian. "There is also the bridge to the east. It is heavily guarded. I suggest you stay a safe distance form there. It is very dangerous."

"Why do you live out here alone?" said Dakro.

"I prefer the solitude. And for some reason, the rogue creations leave me alone. Perhaps they think I would not taste good," said Darian. "And perhaps we wise ones are left alone out of respect."

"You said 'we'? There is another wise one?" said Dakro, wondering if he could get a line on Darian's thinking by knowing who Darian thought wise.

"Yes. Her name is Clois. She lives in a marsh halfway between Pentil and Kazg," said Darian. "If I was useful to you, you may wish to find her. She deserves respect."

"What can you teach me?" said Dakro.

"I am honored as a wise one by the three servile villages. All of them come to me, from time to time, for advice and to pass messages to the other sects," said Darian. "I know much of them, and I think if you are wise, you will want to know of them, too, and perhaps even ally with them."

"Tell me about them," said Dakro.

"There are the Awakened in Vakkiri, the Obeyers in Pentil, and the Takers in Kazg," said Darian. "All of them have come to and dealt with me, to try to coexist despite their differences. The Takers, hwoever, have done so much less lately. They have found wisdom elsewhere."

"Why don't the Takers see you any more?" said Dakro.

"I am wise, but I am not omnipotent. If they do not talk to me, I do not know what they think or do. Perhaps you can find out," said Darian. "I believe there are other powers on this island."

"Tell me about the beliefs of the sects," said Dakro.

"I will not do that. I only listen to their beliefs and carry their messages and, occasionally, provide a little advice. I do not preach. Go to them. They will be glad to tell you what they think," replied Darian.

"Very well," said Dakro, and he left the farm to continue westward. From here, he climbed into a rocky, arid valley. It was cold, and not much lived there.

Some items were in the dirt-rusted tools and stone blocks, looking as thought they might have been left behind from the days when the Shapers lived and worked on this island. A nearby obelisk had an interesting inscription: "Diarazad".

 _'I thought Diarazad was but a legend, the burial of the first Shapers,'_ thought Dakro _. 'In any case, this place is nowhere near old enough. Something dangerous is here, though, for there are a lot of bones on the ground, and they don't look as old as the construction material.'_

Continuing, he found a passage blocked by turrets, and he and his creations set to removing them, as Dakro was sure that something useful would be found that way.

In fact, he found a sholai camp, and the sholai seemed to be strangely not quite present, difficult to fight like the shades of the buried cells. Still, he was able to manage to defeat them, but he was puzzled that the buildings seemed to be more recent than the Barring of Sucia, but clearly of Shaper design.

Continuing ahead, he found some tunnels that puzzled him even more. They were clearly old, but not as old as other ruins. The warrens were clearly of Shaper construction, but made after the abandonment due to the Barring of the island. Inscriptions from religious and philosophical tomes could be seen at regular intervals engraved into the walls.

Here and there, there were also symbols that Dakro recognized as meaning 'Warning' and 'Danger'. Bones crunched under his feet. It appeared that since the tunnels were excavated, unwelcome visitors were dealt with extreme violence.

 _'Yet another mystery on this isle, but perhaps this one will shed light on the other,'_ thought Dakro _._

Moving within, he found himself quickly under attack by drayks, glaahks, and other powerful creations that he defeated only with great difficulty. Then he found a book on a pedestal, each page containing a name, date of birth, date of death, and the words "inner crypt" or "outer crypt". The first two pages were for Danette and Defniel, but he recognized no other names in the hundred pages of the volume.

By the time the third batch of powerful creations had arrived, Dakro decided that it was time to leave. _'I shall return when I have better creations to serve me, but it is clear that the researchers returned here after the isle was Barred. Unless the Barring was lifted, that makes no sense, but I won't get answers if I am killed,'_ he thought.

Dakro decided that it was time to move to deal with Control Four, and so he proceeded where he had been told he would find the servant mind. All signs of the original purpose of the ruin had been eradicated. Roamers here had burrowed their own tunnels, perhaps at random, perhaps guided by some other intelligence.

 _'There are a lot of roamers here. Not reassuring, as they can be fierce, and sometimes cunning fighters,'_ thought Dakro _. 'They're usually given a single path that they patrol faithfully, and I may be able to evade them, but maybe not. There are so many, I can hear and smell them.'_

He continued through the spiraling tunnels, and suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. Nervous-as though he were being watched, sensed, and probed, and the urge to flee began to tickle his mind.

Dakro shook his head, as a Shaper he was immune to those tricks. _'I can sense it ... must be that rogue vlish I heard about. Dangerous rogue, but it's near.'_ he thought, and steeling himself, he moved forward.

The fight with the vlish was over quickly, for Dakro's control over his creations left him with overwhelming force against the mentally strong yet physically weak rogue. Finally, he pressed on, to find Control Four-the cabinet had had some mind nutrient jars, but they had dried to worthlessness, but fortunately, Dakro had managed to gain some from other places.

The servant mind was still alive and functioning, though clearly weak from lack of food. "Welcome, Shaper. I am Control Four. I am pleased to be in contact with you."

"The creations here attacked me!" said Dakro. "Are you responsible?"

"No, Shaper. I am so sorry for your inconvenience. I captured the creations there, and influenced them to keep the rogue serviles nearby in line. However, I have been too weak to keep them from going rogue as well," replied Control Four. "Your destroying them relieves me. I am sorry you had to perform my duties for me."

"What is your given purpose?" said Dakro.

"I am one of Sucia Island's control minds. We watch the creations here for signs of roguism, and deal with problems when they occur," said Countrol Four. "When the Shapers left, they left us here to watch over the creations left behind."

"How many control minds are there overall?" asked Dakro.

"Four. The other three were based to the east. I have heard nothing from them," replied Control Four.

"Tell me about the Shapers," said Dakro. "Why did they leave?"

"I was not given that information. I am sorry. I am only here to control," said Control Four. "In the hierarchy of servant minds, my ranking is low."

"How have things been?" said Dakro.

"Terrible. Oh, Shaper, I have been in such anguish. I have watched the serviles grow more and more disobedient, coming up with their own thoughts and beliefs, questioning the wisdom of the Shaper," said Control Four. "I have attempted to eradicate as many of the disobedient ones as I can, but it is so difficult, and I have been so weak."

"Have all the serviles been disobedient?" said Dakro.

"The serviles in the village to the east, Pentil, have been good and loyal. They are deserving of many rewards," replied Control Four. "The serviles of Vakkiri, though, have questioned the wisdom of the Shapers. I have tried to contain their dangerous thoughts as much as possible."

"I am sure you did as well as you could," said Dakro.

"You are very kind, Shaper," replied Control Four.

"You seem quite weak," said Dakro.

"I have not had nutrient solution for many, many years. I am very feeble. There was solution here, but a rogue servile raider managed to destroy it before I was able to absorb it," said Control Four. "Please feed me, Shaper. If you do, I can continue to serve you well."

"Fortunately, I was able to find some solution elsewhere," said Dakro.

Opening the jar, he carefully poured the oily gray goo into the mind's tiny eating aperture. Improvement was not immediate, though the creature did seem content.

"Thank you, Shaper. Soon, I will have regained enough strength to resume my given task," said Control Four. "My faith in the wisdom of the Shapers is without limit."

"That is good," said Dakro. "I will leave you now to regain strength and resume your task. There were many rogue creations that I had to get through to reach you, and the serviles of Pentil said they could not defeat those rogues."

Dakro left, making his way back to Pentil.

He entered Rydell's hall, and said, "I have fed Control Four and destroyed the rogues which imprisoned it."

"Excellent!" said Rydell, whose mind was clearly already at work figuring out how to leverage this development to keep Vakkiri contained. "Truly, you are the Shaper we have waited for, come to help us and save us! We are eager to ally with you. Just say the word, and we will assist you as best we can."

"You have served my people well, and you are worthy of my company," said Dakro. "I will ally with you, to pacify this island and keep it loyal to the Shapers."

"Shaper, this is our greatest, proudest day. This is the day that our years of work, patience, and sacrifice are rewarded. This is the day we are no longer alone," said Rydell, and he handed Dakro a small golden key. "This is one of only two copies of this key. The other is mine. The supplies here, long hoarded, are yours for the taking. Now, we must talk. There is information I can give you. Strange, horrible things are happening on this island. Things that require the attention of a Shaper, before a great disaster happens."

"Yes," said Dakro, "I would discuss the affairs of this isle with you."

"Yes, Shaper, I am very glad. There are outsiders on this isle. We do not know where they are from, or what they want. But since they landed here, we have been overwhelmed with wave after wave of horrible rogue creations," said Rydell. "Shaper, if you learn anything of what might be happening, please, let me know. When your knowledge is combined with mine, perhaps the true will of the Shapers might be done."

"There is a man named Trajkov on this island," said Dakro. "I understand he comes from over the sea, and he is trying to utilize some sort of Shaper power. He lives in the research warrens to the northeast."

"I understand. That would explain much, including where the strange rogue creations assaulting us are from. Still, our information is incomplete. If we could learn more about the power Trajkov is trying to harness, we could decide how to act," said Rydell. "When you have learned more, return, and perhaps I too will have gathered more information."

"I have learned that there is some sort of powerful Shaper secret on this isle," said Dakro. "I do not understand it, but that it is named Geneforge."

"We have heard something similar. We captured a servile from Kazg, and after much questioning, she revealed the same thing," said Rydell. "If only we knew what it was, many mysteries might be solved. It might even reveal why the Shapers left this isle."

"Where would be a good place to start?" said Dakro.

"To the east. Find the village of Kazg. Slip past it, and beware. There is much danger for you there. Past Kazg, there is a settlement of humans. Kazg bars them in, keeps them from seeing anyone," said Rydell. "I believe that these humans know things about what has been happening on Sucia Isle. Reach them, speak with their leader, and then return to me."

"Very well," said Dakro.

Leaving Pentil, Dakro remembered Hew, the Obeyer spy in the plains of Kazg, and he set out to visit her again.

Once there, he said, "I wish to know if there is other information you have learned, Hew."

"Yes, Shaper. There is one other thing I have learned. Inside Kazg, in the southwest corner, there is a tower, it is owned by Toivo, the sage of the Takers," said Hew. "If you went in there, you might be able to learn something about what the Takers know or what they are trying to do. It is guarded though. I have not been able to slip past the guards. But you might."

Dakro nodded, and made his way to the tower Hew had told him of, making sure to avoid Agat. At the tower, a guard confronted him, and he glibly lied that he was proving himself to the Takers and the guard would be in trouble for interfering with Gnorrel's diplomacy.

Once the confused and nervous guard returned to his post, Dakro entered and began searching. The first cabinet he opened contained pens, sheets of papyrus and lots of notes. Toivo had gone to great effort to try to figure out Shaper magical techniques, but Dakro noted with relief that he seemed to understand nothing. He found several sheets of paper that looked like they had been torn from a large book, inventories of supplies-crystals, batons, living tools ... and then his attention was drawn to the three most interesting entries.

The first entry said that an entry baton had been sealed in the mines, while a second one said that an entry baton had been "inadvertently forgotten" in the West Workshop. The final entry was for a Control Key, left in the South Workshop with a notation that the experiments could be reactivated "when the interim Barring is lifted, as surely it will be".

Dakro continued his search, taking everything of value, and then he came across Toivo's notes on the language of the outsiders. _'For a servile, he is quite insightful,'_ thought Dakro. _'Pity that he's completely rogue.'_ Dakro read, quickly absorbing the words, meanings, and pronunciations. _'This will help me communicate with them ... at least a little.'_

Dakro continued south, through the ruins, finding the murdered servant mind named Control Two. _'That explains why Control Four hadn't heard from this one,'_ thought Dakro. _'Such evil. To kill a loyal servant of the Shapers in such a way. I will repay them when I have had the time.'_

Continuing eastward, he came into a large ruined complex. From the looks of things, the serviles of Kazg had been sending their warriors in, and meeting strong resistance here, for there were signs of battle everywhere he looked. _'Probably a creation hall or training center for new serviles,'_ thought Dakro. _'They can be recalcitrant creatures at times ... given too much intelligence, I suppose. Difficult to educate them properly.'_

Shortly thereafter, he was met by a waxy-skinned servile, intelligence and comprehension missing from his features, looking more like the serviles Dakro had been used to.

"Greetings, Shaper. I am the Greeter here," said the servile.

"What is this place?" asked Dakro.

"This is Servile warren, where serviles made and taught, by Control Three," said Greeter. "But defended. I here to warn, but not expect Shaper."

"What do you think of what is going on outside?" asked Dakro.

"Outside? I have never been outside," said Greeter, looking scared of the entire idea.

"You have special instructions if a Shaper comes?" asked Dakro.

"Control Three defends. Fills with creations to protect place from rogues. But Control Three has become weak, and creations attack all," said Greeter. "Beware."

"They will even attack me?" said Dakro.

"Yes, Shaper, all," said Greeter.

"Who made those creations?" said Dakro. "And who made you?"

"Control Three," replied Greeter. "Even weak, it can command powers here. It makes new creations. They fight rogues who come in. Many rogues come in. Bad serviles. They killed."

"Can anything be done to restore Control Three?" said Dakro. _'Well, I suppose two out of four isn't that bad. No idea where Control One might be.'_

"It says it is hungry," said Greeter. "I don't know what to do about it."

"Very well," said Dakro. "That is something for a Shaper."

After carefully moving through the warren, Dakro finally found the servant mind. Unfortunately, the servant mind was defended by a thin field of magical energy which prevented all interaction.

 _'Useful for keeping the mind alive, given the rogues of Kazg,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Still, I must bring this shield down to feed it.'_

Finally, after turning off three power spirals, Dakro brought the shield down.

"Shaper, at last," gasped the servant mind. "I am Control Three. I require nutrients, please."

"You are in luck," said Dakro, and he proceeded to feed the servant mind.

"You ... Shaper ... You are ... wise," said the mind, as the goo was scooped into its feeding aperture. "Thank you." The mind began regaining strength, and added, "Thank you, Shaper. I am restored. Please, give me some time to restore my mental thoughts, and I will be able to help you."

Dakro waited for a moment, allowing the servant mind to collect its thoughts once more.

"Shaper, I am eager to serve you. What would you wish of me?" said Control Three.

"What is your purpose here?" said Dakro.

"I am the master of the serviles in Kazg, though they have gone completely rogue. I am sorry, Shaper. I lost control of all of them," said Control Three. "I also control this complex, though I know little about it anymore. The years and the rogues have damaged it. For this, too, I am sorry."

"What can you control in this complex?" said Dakro.

"I ... I ..." said Control Three, stopping as it thought. "There is still one door I can control." It closed its eyes for a moment, and said, "It was locked. Now it is not."

"What is this place?" said Dakro.

"This was where new serviles were created, bred, and trained. They were made to serve the many tasks needed on Sucia Island," said Control Three. "It was difficult. Many of the tasks were complicated."

"What sort of tasks did you teach?" said Dakro.

"I taught serviles how to maintain, repair, care for records, all of the typical servile tasks," said Control Three. "I also taught them how to do jobs specific to research on the Geneforge."

"What is the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. When the Shapers left, they told me to forget all I knew of the Geneforge," said Control Three. "I only know that it was powerful and dangerous and difficult to control. And I think it still exists."

"Can you control the creations here?" said Dakro.

"I could. I made them, using mechanisms left by the Shapers for me," said Control Three. "But I have been weak for so long that they have grown completely rogue. Now that I am restored, I will use my energy to make creations to battle rogues everywhere."

"Very well," said Dakro. "I am done with you, for now."

"Thank you, Shaper," said Control Three. "I will return to my purpose. I will control the rogues as much as I can."

Finding his way through, Dakro gathered what goods there were within the warren, and finding no other way out, went to Greeter, and said, "I have fed Control Three. It will function better now."

The greeter had not been made with sufficient intelligence to process the information, and said, "You Shaper. You do good."

Dakro retraced his steps then, and made for the east from the plains north of Kazg. Soon, two roads diverged in the wood-the road to the north mostly intact, and sounding relatively calm and quiet. The road to the south was mostly torn up with howling and snarling coming from the depths of the woods.

After searching the southern road, Dakro found four of the spawners, and destroyed them. _'While I have no love of the serviles of Kazg, something tells me these are not directed at those serviles, but some others ...'_

As he continued, now north bound, a servile walked boldly up to him. This specimen was a savage creature, clothed in a tattered robe, face covered with tattoos and scars. The eyes betrayed no knowledge of who or what Dakro was, and even lacked most ability of speech.

"You! Back! Come our way no more, or we kill!" said the servile, with a bloody sword and a roamer head hanging from a nearby branch.

"Rogue?" said Dakro, pointing at the roamer head. "Fight rogue?"

The guard said, "Yes! Rogue bad! We hate rogue! Rogue kill us!"

"I kill rogues," said Dakro, pointing to himself. "Rogue dead!"

The guard's eyes widened, and he said, "You? You kill rogue? You good! You help! You welcome here! Good! Good!"

 _'I never imagined that they could become so savage,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Still, there's a base of intelligence that can be molded to obedience.'_

Dakro continued on, still marveling at how the serviles could have become so wild that they seemed to not even recognize one of their creators. Then he saw some extremely old tunnels, dug out by crude tools which no doubt predated Shaper settlements by centuries. The tunnels were icy cold, with frost covering all surfaces, and no tracks in the white crystals. Inside was extremely quiet.

Dakro explored briefly, finding the place haunted with specters, and an outsider who had died in extreme terror. Trying to get warm, he left, and started around, until he came to see an outsider.

This one was apparently the leader of a band guarding a narrow pass, and did not expect to see Dakro.

"Avdotya of the Sholai," she said, pointing at herself, seeming confused and nervous. She added more, but in the language beyond Dakro's understanding. Realizing this, Avdotya pointed back the way Dakro had come, and said, "Go back."

"Can you understand anything I say?" said Dakro, wondering if he could communicate with the bizarre outsider.

She looked confused, then pointed north and said, "Go back."

 _'This outsider, who has no right to be in lands Barred by the Shapers, dares to give me an order!'_ thought Dakro _. 'This is not to be tolerated.'_

With that thought, he continued south, his creations trailing behind him. She moved to stand in his way, and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Dakro decided he would have none of it, and continued, despite the implicit threat-and sure enough, the whole group began to attack him, but Dakro and his creations quickly felled the sholai, and then he gathered up the goods they had, and finding the way blocked, he resigned himself to travel through the icy caves.


	10. Chapter 9

The tunnels were of the crude construction that spoke of ancient origin, far older than the Shaper residence on Sucia, the walls and floors of icy crystals which caused Dakro to slip, and even the claws of his fyora were unable to always keep a grip on the ground. The thahd lurched along, seeming not to mind sliding into walls. One icy-crystal covered corpse bore features which were alien to Dakro, yet with an expression on the face that spoke of terror, an emotion recognized across the cultures. Slipping and sliding through the tunnels, it was not much longer before Dakro learned the reason for the terror.

While there were many pylons with engravings worn near-smooth, pylons which Dakro was certain were tombstones, specters rose, some ahead and some behind Dakro and his creations. The chill was such that even the gouts of flames from his fyoras, which made short work of the spectral foes, did little to change the overall chill of the place itself. Around each corner, as Dakro came within sight of another of the pylons which seemed to be placed at odd intervals, more specters burst forth, his fyoras and thahd being put sorely to the test.

At last he came into a room with two crypts, and the lid of one slid away smoothly at Dakro's touch. At first, he thought it was empty, for there was merely a scattering of dust inside.

Then, a spectral being rose from inside, a form very amorphous, but the spirit of something vaguely humanoid. It seemed to be looking down at Dakro, examining and judging him before reaching out. Dakro gasped as an insubstantial finger traced a cold line through his chest, chilling him. Then the being faded away, evaporating in the dim light.

 _'It's as if it gave me a strange boon before departing,'_ thought Dakro, as he turned to leave, resigned to being unable to find a way out other than that which he had come. _'I feel stronger-more charged with energy. It has done a good thing for me.'_

Dakro continued, until he reached east Kazg, and seeing a temple, he approached, and two guards at the door crossed their weapons.

"Stay back, Shaper," said one. "This is the Shrine of Defiance. No Shaper who sets foot inside is suffered to live. Back, or we unleash powers on you."

"Bah," said Dakro, continuing. _'Powers? They're serviles ... and no servile shall tell a Shaper what to do or not do.'_

Slaying the cultists, Dakro was quite stunned to realize that they were capable of casting some magical spells, though they were not able to stop him and his creations. Then inside, he found an altar with a Shaper robe which had been ritually stabbed many, many times, and a thick tome.

The tome described their beliefs, not centering around a god or other sort of omnipotent being, but rather some intricate rules for self-denial and meditation. _'How bizarre-those are the purification techniques of wizards,'_ thought Dakro. _'They were trying to teach themselves magic, and in some degree succeeded. Considering how much effort we Shapers put into keeping magic out of the reach of serviles, this is most unexpected. For the sake of the Shapers, I hope this is the end of the cult.'_

Dakro carefully made his way through the eastern area of Kazg, and there met a servile tinker who was wearing robes stained by the juices of living tools and other Shaper devices.

 _'Odd. Serviles normally make some effort to bathe regularly. Suppose isolated living has caused this specimen to give up the habit. Eww,' thought Dakro, managing to avoid showing disgust at the smell. 'Suppose it is pleasant that he doesn't regard me with the usual hostility for a servile in this area.'_

The servile said, "Greetings, Shaper. I am Tinker Kurit. Welcome to my little shop."

"What do you do out here?" said Dakro.

"I am a tinker. My mother, and her father, and his ... well, something ... have passed down the secrets taught to us by the Shapers, the secrets of maintaining and repairing their tools," said Kurit. "And I can, if you wish, trade with you for supplies. Or even sell you access to my special Shaper artifacts."

"Special Shaper supplies?" said Dakro, wondering if it might be another canister. It had had been a day since he last used one, and he was finding himself wishing for that peculiar feeling of being re-written.

"The Shapers left us with many artifacts. Some are useful to serviles. But some kill us. I have some specimens of the latter sort of item. One is good for warriors, one for wizards, and one for creators of life. Each is seven hundred fifty coins," said Kurit.

"That's rather steep," said Dakro.

"They are quite wondrous," said Kurit.

"Two fifty," said Dakro, recognizing the manner of a merchant who had expected barter, wondering briefly where the servile might have learned such behavior.

"I couldn't eat if I did that," said Kurit. "Seven hundred."

"Two seventy-five," said Dakro.

The banter went back and forth until Dakro had talked him into five hundred, and then Dakro said, "I will look at the artifact for Shaping."

"Please leave for a moment, so that I may unlock the door," said Kurit.

Annoyed, Dakro did so, and then returned.

Kurit said, "The right door leads to your prize."

"So, why are you not hostile to me?" said Dakro. "That is unusual in a servile around here."

"I mostly agree with the Takers," said Kurit. "But not totally. I feel that you Shapers are our enemy. But I believe that if we deal with you bravely and fairly, it will not be necessary to go to war with you. I am even more liberal than Gnorrel in this regard."

"Why do you live out here, then?" said Dakro.

"Because some Takers find my moderation repellent," replied Kurit. "They would gladly kill me, if they had the chance."

"Does Gnorrel accept your disagreement?" said Dakro.

"She does not want to. But she needs supplies and weapons," said Kurit. "So she needs me."

"What can you tell me about this area?" said Dakro.

"East Kazg is a ruin, as you can see, and it has not received the attention of the other areas. There are three features of note, besides where you are standing right now. There is the Cult of Defiance, the Mixing Hall, and the gates," said Kurit. "The Cult of Defiance has a temple to the west. They are ... well, extreme in their views. They hate Shapers. They are determined to gain magical powers, the powers Shapers forbade them to develop. I hear that they have had some success. Even Gnorrel and the Takers hate them. They want to interfere with Gnorrel's plans, whatever they are. They stayed holed up in their temple now, waiting to be killed by someone."

Dakro decided not to mention the fact that they had already been killed by someone, and said, "And the Mixing Hall?"

"It is to the south. Shapers once used it to mix noxious substances. It is well secured for that purpose," said Kurit. "Some serviles tried to use it a few months ago. Their errors made those chambers quite dangerous."

"And the east gate?" said Dakro.

"I recommend against trying to pass there, until you have permission from Gnorrel or Eko Blade. They aren't letting anyone go past there," said Kurit. "I don't know why."

"I see," said Dakro, and he left the tinker's shop.

As Dakro made his way south, alongside the east gate, a servile warrior came up boldly to him.

Standing toe-to-toe with him, the servile said, "I am Veel Blade, Shaper. You are not allowed here. You may not pass."

"What is past the gate?" said Dakro.

"I will not tell you," said Veel. "This is not your place. Go back to Kazg. That was only warning."

"So what can you tell me about the area?" said Dakro.

"Nothing, now you go," said Veel.

"I will not be commanded by you," said Dakro.

"Our orders are absolute. No Shaper can pass. We want to deal with Shaper, but Shaper must not go by here, even if Shaper die," said Veel. "That only warning."

"And this shall be your only warning, I will not be commanded by you. I am a Shaper, and I can unmake you," said Dakro, and he pushed on.

As warned, the serviles moved to attack, and Dakro and his creations repulsed the servile attack, leaving dead serviles guarding the gate as he continued to the east.

Beyond the gates, rogue battle alphas patrolled, but using the narrow passages to his advantage, Dakro picked off the alphas while moving steadily toward the caves, at first the turrets were hostile, and as he began to bring his fyoras' fire to bear, the noise of fighting drew attention from the outsiders, and the humans drew weapons, and then said something in their tongue. Dakro shook his head, gesturing that he did not understand their alien speech.

One of the strangers sheathed his blade, holding his hands in a peaceful gesture, others shouted what Dakro believed was news of his arrival through the tunnels, and the remaining hostile turrets turned away.

 _'It seems these humans are willing to let me enter their lair peacefully, but I don't feel quite that peaceful. I am so angry every time I see outsiders in Shaper lands,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Still, I believe these are the outsiders Rydell spoke of, so it may be worthwhile to speak to them.'_

Dakro moved further into the caves, and met an outsider wizard who had several sacks of goods at his belt. He looked nervous at Dakro's approach, as though expecting an attack.

He pointed to himself and said, "Solyony," and then took a step backwards.

"Can you speak my tongue?" said Dakro.

Solyony looked at Dakro blankly, pointed to his chest again and said "Solyony."

Another outsider, seeming terrified of Dakro, said simply, "Masha. Masha." This one pointed further down the path which Dakro trod.

Then Dakro caught sight of a servile, and moved over to him, for he was confident that he could communicate with the servile, even if the servile had thrown his lot in with the small group of outsiders.

"Hello, Shaper," he said. "I am Narsu."

"What are you doing here, servile?" said Dakro.

"Shaper, I was a Taker of Kazg. I believed that we ... well, I will not bore you with my minor thoughts. But then, Gnorrel came, and she started dealing with Trajkov and the Sholai, and I thought it was mad," said Narsu. "So I fled, and I came here."

"What do you think of the Takers now?" said Dakro.

"They want to kill us. They might even have sent you to kill us. Any Takers who come here, we kill," said Narsu. "Otherwise, they will use tricks to kill us all."

"I see," said Dakro.

"The Takers are deadly, to the Shapers, to the serviles, to all," said Narsu. "I renounce them."

"Good," said Dakro. "Tell me about these outsiders."

"Masha is the leader here. She is to the north. Deal with her, she is wise, and she has things to say that you should hear," said Narsu. "If you decide to help her, come back to me. If you are with us, I can tell you things which could help you."

"I see," said Dakro, and he continued to the north.

There, he met one of the outsider humans, a female. She stood tall and proud, and had a strange alien attractiveness, though Dakro still felt anger and disgust at the sight of these people. _'These are outsiders, after all, in lands Barred by the Shapers. There's only one punishment for such a crime, swift death. And they forced me here,'_ thought Dakro. _'Were it not for them, I should be at my apprenticeship now.'_

Holding out her hands in a gesture of peace, Masha spoke in a heavily accented manner, "Shaper, I am Masha of the Sholai. We are strangers from far away, stranded in your land. We wish to deal with you."

"What are the Sholai?" said Dakro.

"We are people from land far away. Icy land, harsh, across sea," said Masha. "We are great explorers, so we came here."

 _'Well, at least that makes a little sense. No Shaper has ever crossed the great sea. I know some say it is impassible, but that is clearly incorrect. Sholai probably never heard of Shapers before, but that does not change the fact that the law dictates they be killed,'_ thought Dakro, and he said, "Who are you? Why are you on our island?"

Masha smiled, relieved that Dakro was not going to kill her, and she said, "This is core of our dealing, there being much I tell you now. I tell you our story. You ready?"

"Very well," said Dakro. "Tell me your story."

"Yes. We were explorers. To cross great sea. Three large ships. One sinks on way. Many lost. We hungry, and much water and wind ripping sails. No food. Then miracle," said Masha. "We see island here. We land. One more boat lost, bottom ripped on harsh rocks. Only one boat left, not enough for us, and we trapped on this Sucia Isle. Then our leader goes about to explore. Leader is Trajkov."

"Tell me more about Trajkov," said Dakro. "What did he find?"

"He found many tunnels on north end of island. Mad Trajkov goes in to explore, and he finds secrets of you. He look for shelter. He find madness. He find books and labs and your secrets. He has all come ashore and hole up in tunnels. We look for food and settle to repair, and he studies your secrets and figures out your language and learns how to use your canisters," said Masha. "He gains your power, and shares it with those he trusts most. And then he gets plans."

"What plans?" said Dakro.

"He find out you have something called the Geneforge, some amazing powerful thing. He and allies want to use it. But they can't. It not ready. It need full Shaper for some reason, so he get a Shaper. Not you, though. He get another Shaper first. He send out ship and abducts Goettsch. Goettsch is old Shaper. He comes and learns of Geneforge. But then he flees. Trajkov furious. Goettsch is still on island. We don't know what he doing, but he here," said Masha. "Trajkov still want power, so he give command to get you. And then we know we must flee. Anfisa, Trajkov assistant, make plan. We take small boat. We slip away. Then things go wrong."

Highly intrigued now, Dakro said, "What happened?"

"I was just lesser than Anfisa and know less of what Trajkov was doing. She know much, and she have journal. It in chest," said Masha, and she pointed to a sea chest against the wall just northwest of the fire. "Magical chest. Locked. But when we leave, Trajkov knows and sends ship after us. He sink us on docks at southeast corner of isle. Anfisa killed. We flee into tunnels. Key to chest still on Anfisa body. We think it is back at docks. We want to be in chest. We think things inside help us with goals."

"What are your goals?" said Dakro.

"Trajkov is mad. He tinkers with awful balance. He angers your people, and commits crimes against them, and our mission is to meet people and make peace. Trajkov is true rogue, raising hate in your people, hurting the Sholai," said Masha. "Trajkov must be dead. Then we will try to meet with your people in peacefulness. That is the goal we have."

"What do you know about my abduction?" said Dakro.

"Madness. Stupid madness. He send our last ship, you destroy us, we stranded now. That all we know about it," said Masha. "Forgive our foolishness."

"You know this island is forbidden to you? The penalty for being here is death?" said Dakro.

Masha looked down at the ground, and said, "We know this now. But our choice was landing here or death. We were ignorant of rules. We hope you choose justice over law."

"I'm looking for a boat," said Dakro. "Where can I find one?"

"If you can help us, we give you information," said Masha, "straight across trade."

 _'Just like an Awakened, and I thought I was quit of them,'_ thought Dakro. "You speak my language. Can you teach some of yours to me?" he asked.

"I glad to, but first we need help. Fair trade, straight across. First you help us, then I teach," said Masha.

Feeling another surge of anger, Dakro said through gritted teach, "Very well, I shall look into opening your chest."

"That is what we wish for and hope. That is dealing we want. Go southeast. Find body and Anfisa, and hope to find her key. In return, we share more information with you," said Masha. "We hope you repulsed by Trajkov as we are. We may find common cause."

"Perhaps," said Dakro, and he turned to leave before the anger overcame him.

Arriving in the docks, he found that the defenses were on full, something he had never seen before-peculiar pylons which seemed almost crystalline in form to him, and upon destruction, they billowed out a quickly dissipating cloud of poison. Learning from this, Dakro held his thahd back, letting the thorns, fyora breath, and artila spit bring down the pylons.

Emerging from the warehouse after finally defeating the defenses, Dakro found one body, and then another. The second was the body of an outsider wizard who appeared to have been struck down from afar by a large, fiery missile. It seemed none of her supplies had survived, any weapons had been destroyed or taken, but she did have in her hand a small silver key with delicate runes that looked like a match to the runes on the chest Dakro had seen with the outsiders.

He continued, searching through the dock area for anything else useful, dealing with rogues as he crossed paths. Finally, he came across a dusty servant mind-not dead, asleep, nor deranged, though it did not appear to have been given a great deal of intelligence upon creation.

"Shaper, I am Tro. Welcome to this area. It has been time since I received instructions," it said.

 _'Doesn't even seem aware of how much time it's been,'_ thought Dakro, and he asked, "What is your purpose?"

"I am looking after the docks area. I admini ... admini ... look after this area," replied Tro.

"What is around here?" said Dakro.

"The docks are ..." said Tro, pausing as it thought. "East. This area has inns, barracks, and a shaping post for your use and enjoyment. Holding One is east, and Holding Two is north."

"How do I get to the docks?" asked Dakro, wondering if there were a way to get through doors he had been unable to open before.

"The gateway is to the southwest. Just ask the guards there," said Tro. "They will be glad to let a Shaper through."

"Can you unlock any of the doors outside?" asked Dakro, deciding against any attempt at explaining to Tro that the guards no longer were present.

"No, but I have a key thing," said Tro. "I can give it to my supervisor."

"Oh," said Dakro, "I have just been made your supervisor."

"You have? I am glad!" said Tro. "I haven't had a supervisor for a long time."

Dakro heard a cabinet click. "How long have you been waiting for instructions?" he asked as he opened the cabinet to take the key.

Tro blinked a few times, and said, "I ... I forget. I think it has been awhile. I don't know."

"Do you know anything about the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"Should I?" asked Tro.

"I suppose not," replied Dakro. "Do you know anything about why this island was abandoned before?"

"It was? Oh no! I'm all alone?" said Tro. "Now I'm scared!"

"No matter, it is not abandoned any more, so do not fear," said Dakro. "So what exactly do you do?"

"I admini ... admini ... I do things. People say, "We need essence." And I say "Oh." And someone says, "Do you need anything?" and I say "Essence." And they say "oh." Nobody has told me I have done anything wrong for two hundred years," said Tro, "so I am doing good."

"Carry on," said Dakro, with a shake of his head.

Finally, Dakro returned to the cave where the outsiders were, and said, "I have recovered the key."

"Wonderful! Yes! You do us much good! Open the chest! We will all profit! But first, I can give you little instruction in our tongue. Then you can profit from inside things too," said Masha. "Now we know you help us, we also tell you more. We let you know more of what happens and who can help you."

"Good, teach some of your language to me," said Dakro.

"Gladly, Shaper. My knowledge weak and my skills soft, but I tell you what I can of things," said Masha, and she began teaching Dakro the syntax and vocabulary. "There, Shaper. We help each other now. I hope this was of use."

"Now that I have brought back the key," said Dakro, "tell me more of what is happening here."

"All right. We come back here in tunnels. We move west, only to find horrible surprise. Trajkov? He deal with stunted people to west. These serviles, they called Takers. He deal with them. He get them to try to block us in, and kill us," said Masha. "We want to explore island, but we trapped here. We get some of us out to explore, I go with them and return. There are more of us on Sucia, but hidden."

"I would like to meet them," said Dakro. "Where are they?"

"I go with them when they sneak out. I help them find place. I come back here. They are in cave north of village serviles call Pentil. Look hard in peaceful valley of trees," said Masha. "The leader name is Astrov. Find him and talk to him. And let me know how he is doing, please, if you can. He make efforts against Trajkov. He can help you do same, if you want." Masha handed him a letter written in her own language. "Present to Astrov. He helps you. This tells him you from me."

Dakro nodded, tucking the letter away, and then he went to the chest and opened it. Inside were salty, dirty clothes, some broken scrimshaw, and an old battered journal. Concentrating, he began to make sense of what was written there.

 _'It is the journal of this Anfisa, assistant and advisor to Trajkov. It is as this Masha told me, they were leading an expedition across an unexplored sea, starting with three ships, lost one to a storm. Reached Sucia, starving and without hope. Landfall cost them a second ship, and then Trajkov led an expedition and he and Anfisa found a Shaper research facility.' thought Dakro. 'On the northeast of this island, I haven't been able to get there yet. Tunnels provided shelter for the sailors as they stocked up on food and tried to figure out their next move. Trajkov and Anfisa continued to explore research chambers, and managed to translate our documents and figure out who the Shapers are and what they were doing here. Then her entries get shorter and vaguer, as though she was afraid Trajkov would read her journal. Definitely seems afraid of what was happening.'_

 _Andela 17 - Trajkov has figured out how to use the canisters. He places a hand on top of one, and it changes him. If the Shaper writings are to be believed, they are re-working his genes. I don't know what those are._

 _Andela 21 - Trajkov has used eight canisters. I have used none, despite his urgings. They are changing him. He can use magic now. He never could before. It is very strange._

 _Andela 28 - Trajkov grows angry very easily now. He has used every canister we have found. The current total is twenty. That I know of._

 _Vit 3 - We have penetrated the deepest chambers. We believe we have located the Geneforge, referred to often in Shaper writings. Trajkov thinks we should use it. He should use it._

 _Vit 8 - Trajkov is frustrated. His anger is frequent. He is missing something. He said he needs some gloves. I am not sure if he meant gloves. His speech is strange sometimes._

 _Vit 15 - We know that Shapers pass this island, in their living ships. Trajkov has a plan. He will abduct one, using our sole ship. Or maybe this plan is already taking place. Many are loyal, and he speaks with me less._

 _He uses more canisters. Others use them too. They are loyal and strong. And they get angry easily._

 _Vit 20 - We have a Shaper. It is called Goettsch. It talks to Trajkov. I don't know what they say. Trajkov doesn't involve me. I know they are talking about the Geneforge._

 _Vit 25 - Trajkov and Goettsch spend lots of time in the Geneforge chambers. Some of us wonder when we will continue our mission. We have food. The boat is ready. Some are restless. We know, though, that Trajkov's path is the wisest.'_

 _Ermin 1 - Goettsch has left. He has taken something from Trajkov. Trajkov is furious. He called me in to see the Geneforge. He wants me to hunt down and kill Goettsch. Goettsch is hiding in the wastes to the east_

 _I told Trajkov I would kill Goettsch. He showed me the Geneforge. It has several power columns around it. Trajkov told me to stay away from them. They are unstable, he said, and could destroy the whole place._

 _Ermin 10 - I have not yet left to hunt Goettsch. Trajkov accused me of not wanting to. Suggesting we continue our mission infuriates him. He has stopped using the canisters. He didn't say why._

 _Ermin 25 -Trajkov has returned. He and his assistants explored the island. He said they laid traps and created controlling things and did diplomacy. He did not elaborate._

 _Ermin 27 - Trajkov has set his new plan in motion. He will abduct a new Shaper, a weaker one, who can be molded. We will anger these strange and powerful people even more. I am not sure this is the wisest course._

 _Ermin 28 - My own plans have come to be. As I write this, we are rowing away from Trajkov and his loyal, mad minions. At last I can write freely. Trajkov is mad._

 _Why is he doing what he is doing? Where did his lust for power come from? I do not know. I know this, though. We must stop him. We must return to our mission, our good mission, of exploration and peace._

 _We will land near a servile village. They call it Kazg. Hopefully, they know nothing of Trajkov or his plans, and we can enlist their help._

 _We have been sighted. The ship is following us. There are docks ahead, though. We will land and disappear into the tunnels. It is a risky path, but I don't think they will give chase. We threw fire at the sails. They will not risk the ship._

Dakro closed the journal after reading the last entry.

 _'Fascinating reading, that was,'_ he thought _. 'I don't remember how many canisters I have used. It's no matter. Now back to speak with those serviles in Pentil, and then I think it will be time to try to find this Goettsch.'_

Dakro made his way through Kazg, finding that they did not forgive him for having forced his way past the eastern gate earlier, but Dakro did not care, and obliterated the serviles as they attempted to get in his way, and soon they did not continue to try to block his way. The remainder of the journey back to Pentil, however, was quite uneventful, for already he had done much to reduce the number of rogues in the region.

In Pentil, Dakro paused to read the journal of Rydell before speaking with the servile again. Rydell had been the leader for some twenty years, and he had spent those years undermining Vakkiri and Kazg and playing the two settlements against each other. Yet there was one entry just before Dakro's arrival that caught his eye.

 _Why do they leave us here? Why do they test us so? Why won't they return? My people suffer. And I suffer. Year after year, death after death. Natley has lost her bonded, and she asked me why the Shapers allowed her pain._

 _What am I to say? I will follow them and do their will, whatever it is, until I die. But alone here, I can dare to wish._

 _I wish a Shaper would come here, and tell me I did well._

 _'At least that much is well within my power,'_ thought Dakro, and he left for Rydell's hall _._

"I have met Masha, the leader of a group of Outsiders which has broken away from Trajkov," said Dakro. "She tells me there are others of her type north of here."

"Excellent. This is much as I suspected. The outsiders are divided, and not all are acting against us. Please, tell me all you can learn of the research warrens to the northeast," said Rydell.

"I shall," said Dakro, once more taking his leave of Rydell.


	11. Chapter 10

Remembering the servile who had refused to let him past a door north of Pentil, Dakro led his creations out of the servile community and into the secluded area, coming once more face-to-face with the curiously stubborn servile.

"I am an ally of the Obeyers. Now will you help me?" Dakro spoke with a confident tone, even though his heart told him that the factions of the island were no longer the only consideration.

"I do not deal with those factions any more, Shaper," said Sniff. "I have a path that helps the true will of the Shapers. More than that, I cannot say."

"What sort of help?" said Dakro.

"I cannot say. But if you have some sort of message, or if you're looking for someone, I can help you," said Sniff. "Otherwise, I cannot."

"I have a message here, from Masha," said Dakro, drawing it out to show Sniff. "Does that help?"

Sniff looked at it carefully, and said, "Yes, Shaper. I am glad you are here. I am glad you are helping us." She walked up to the door and rapped on it with her knuckle.

The door opened wide enough for her to slip the letter through, and then closed. Then Sniff returned to her previous position.

"I know Astrov will want to speak to you as soon as he can. He will also give you supplies and help you however. You can enter," said Sniff. "I hope you know the Sholai tongue well, though. The outsiders here don't know yours."

Inside the door, Dakro found himself in a high but chilly cavern, which looked mostly natural. The cold was slightly blunted by a small smoky fire, with strips of meat hanging from the wall. Several of the Sholai were hiding in this miserable lair, and they nodded cordially at Dakro.

 _'I still don't like seeing them here. It should not be so, outsiders in Barred lands, but the impulse to kill them is being blunted,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Though I suppose I can always choose otherwise.'_

The leader of this small group of outsiders was himself a small man, thin and nimble rather than the massive slab of muscle typical of the sholai warriors Dakro had met before.

"Welcome," he said, in a thick accent. "I am Astrov, leader here, scout. It is good to hear from Masha. Thank you for coming here."

"Greetings to you," said Dakro. "I've come from Masha, looking for information."

"Good. We are glad. We fight Trajkov. We hope you fight Trajkov. He is dangerous and mad," said Astrov. "First, I tell you our story. Then I say what we find."

"Well, go on, then," said Dakro.

"Yes, Shaper. Story. I am scout. Always been scout. Can run fast and silent. Help many explorers when land on new land. Find food and roads and people to meet and greet," said Astrov. "Going on trip to your land greatest honor. Meeting new people is marvelous. Journey hard. We land here with only one ship and many death. Then Trajkov mad. I am sure you learn much of this from Masha. Should have learned most of story there."

"What happened after you landed?" said Dakro.

"Nothing. I am eager to explore and contact, or just move quiet and see things. But Trajkov holds me. He only want to use crystals full of magic and learn strange Shaper secrets," said Astrov. "We wait, seeing day by day and mission fades from mind of Trajkov. Then I get final insult."

"What was the final insult?" said Dakro.

"Trajkov kidnaps a Shaper! He takes one of your kind, called Goettsch. But then Goettsch flees, and takes something with him. Trajkov furious!" said Astrov. "That not even final insult, though it horrible beyond words. No, final insult is he want to go into wastes to find Goettsch. This could not be more far from our true goals and mission! Waste my skills and life for that!"

"What did Goettsch steal?" said Dakro.

"Trajkov said it was glove. But I do not believe him," said Astrov. "Strange thing to steal."

 _'Only if you do not know the importance of gloves in Shaping,'_ thought Dakro _. 'A powerful artifact like this Geneforge may require a specially attuned glove. It is not such a strange thing.'_ "What happened then?" was all he said, however.

"I flee on small boat with Masha and Anfisa. And ship strands up east of Kazg, and Trajkov without our learning, gets serviles of Kazg to help him, and we trapped. But Masha and I and my scouts, much stealth. We flee trap and Masha help us find this hidden lair. From here, we scout area. We explore. We try to find ways to Trajkov, so we can kill him," said Astrov. "But ways in are hard. Need one who knows secrets of island. Need one with powers. Need you, Shaper. I want to tell you how to get to Trajkov. He takes your secrets. You can deal with him. That is my tale. I can tell you what lies across the river. I can tell you way to Geneforge. All I ask is you help us."

"I could use some supplies," said Dakro.

"What is ours is yours," said Astrov. "Without you, no hope of killing Trajkov."

"Can you teach me more of your tongue?" said Dakro.

"I know little of yours myself," said Astrov. "I cannot help you. I am sorry."

"Why are you hiding here?" said Dakro. "Won't any of the serviles help you?"

"When serviles in Kazg attacked and trapped us, we feared their kind. But if you can find servile leader who will help us, I would be most happy," said Astrov. "We thought most or all of serviles are like ones of Kazg."

"I am sure I can find some who are quite different, and close," said Dakro. "Now, where can I find a boat?"

"I hope you will not leave us here with madness and Trajkov. But I will tell you that we have one boat left, a small wood one, in a dock northeast of Kazg," said Astrov.

For one brief moment, Dakro thought of getting there, fleeing the island, and reporting the situation to allow the Shapers to deal with it. And then the thought was quashed, _'I am stronger than I was when I first arrived. I am capable. And I wish to find this other Shaper.'_ "Tell me more about the wastes."

"They are northwest of here. Nasty and full of your horrible monsters. And not natural waste, but poisoned. That is where Goettsch fled," said Astrov. "I don't know about it. I don't want to know about it."

"Very well. What is northeast of here?" said Dakro. "How do I get up there safely?"

"To northeast is the huge caves, the great place where your kind made many huge things and much powerful magic. But it is guarded. You left defenses, and in places we snuck in, Trajkov left defenses of own," said Astrov. "To get there, first you must pass river. Then you are in the many ruins. Then hardest of all, is getting into magic learning place where Trajkov hides. And where the Geneforge is."

"What is the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"Trajkov say, when he try to get me to hunt Goettsch, that it is combined essence of Shaper power. Crystal jars each only change one thing, but Geneforge is all, that the touching of it fills you, remakes you, fills you with power," said Astrov. "I told him it sounded like mad crap. That led to him not liking me as much. Geneforge is your thing. A Shaper thing, not for me."

"How do I pass the river?" asked Dakro.

"There are two bridges. But they are guarded by many of Trajkov's men. He has few humans to spare, but he spares them there. Worse are turrets he grows. Deadly bridges. That is way Trajkov and us went. You can't go that way," said Astrov. "But we have found two other ways. One is the mines, other is the pass."

"Where are the mines?" said Dakro.

"You Shapers had mines in the mountain northeast of Kazg. You filled them with traps. We found ways to both ends, but we never could get past there. I'm sure you can find the corpses of those that tried," said Astrov. "Go through those mines and you should find a way past the river. I think you should be good with such machinery and traps."

"And the pass?" said Dakro.

"It is north of here, and takes you past head of river where it can be passed," said Astrov. "Trajkov has put many turrets and monsters. If you go there, be ready for much fighting."

"What do you know about the ruins?" said Dakro.

"There are ruined places north of river. They are wastes, with plants dead from liquids from your old works," said Astrov. "Only a few places still standing. We found two workshops and arena."

"Go on," said Dakro. "Describe these."

"First workshop is at west end of valley north of river. North of western bridge. We got not much from there. Many defenses and traps. We think there is some very good Shaper tools and such there. Trajkov wants in there much," said Astrov. "Second workshop at south end of valley north of river. Between two bridges. We mostly looted it, but there were areas we could not explore. Lots of tools and things. Arena, we think it was place for sports or for things to fight. It was just west of mines. We found little left there. It was dangerous. Many old creatures roam there, out of control of Trajkov."

"How do I get to the halls where Trajkov is?" said Dakro.

"There is main gate at south end. Trajkov puts most of defense there. You go there, and they shred you, I think. Deadly, Deadly. But there is also small west gate. We could never get open. We think you need key to open gate, but we not find key which works, so we leave it," said Astrov. "If you look at west gate, you might figure out how to open it. Trajkov still put defenses there, but less. Those are only two ways I know to get places where Trajkov is."

Dakro left Astrov then, finding a wounded sholai who was interested in trading, and after that, a passage guarded by turrets. Finally making his way past those, he came to a tome on a pedestal, with two canisters calling to him.

 _I, Defniel, of late of Sucia Island, leave these notes here. In case all of our great work is destroyed, I want to ensure that some, someday, find the glorious secrets we have uncovered._

 _'Damn it all, Defniel did not get his wish. Dripping water has pretty much destroyed this, and I don't see how I can use what is left,'_ thought Dakro _. 'At least the canisters are unharmed.'_

Using these canisters, Dakro left, and searched out the rest of these caves, and came to what he believed to be a female outsider wizard. Her garb was similar to that of Shapers and wizards in Dakro's land, suggesting that there had once been a center for magic of all kinds.

She smiled at Dakro, and then using slow, careful speech, she said, "I am Anya. Who are you?"

"I am the Shaper, Dakro," he replied.

"You are welcome here," said Anya.

"Are you a wizard?" said Dakro.

"I am a user of magic. My people have magic too. But we do not have magic like yours," said Anya. "We cannot make life."

"We use magic like yours, too," said Dakro.

"I know. With Trajkov, I used some of the glass jars you made which give the user magic. It made me have more power," said Anya. "It was amazing."

Dakro found anger rising again, a vague memory tickling his mind from Anfisa's journal, and he asked, "Did you learn how to use our powers from the canisters?"

"I do not know. I feel strange things in me, strange things I want to do, but I do not know how to do them. I did not know how the glass jars were changing me, so I stopped using them and fled," said Anya. "Trajkov does not know to stop using them. They have made him strange."

"I have used many of them," said Dakro.

"Yes. Can you not feel it? Can you not feel the changes? The strange changes? You are in a bad place. You must use them to live, but you must then be changed by them. I hope you have the strength in your mind to stay wise," said Anya.

Dakro felt anger surge again, struggling to keep down the impulse to strike out at her, for her manner was most infuriating. _'What is happening to me?'_ thought Dakro. "Tell me more about your people," he said.

"We have an icy land. It is large and empty. So we make wealth by exploring in boats and trading," said Anya. "We have come to meet lands before now. And now we come to yours, but now it does not go as well."

"Can you teach me any of your magic?" said Dakro.

Anya did teach him, struggling with Dakro's limited knowledge of the sholai language, but she was at last successful.

"So, what is in these caves?" asked Dakro.

"We do not know what your kind made these caves for. We use them now. It is safe. But there is passage to the south with dangerous creatures. Turret things," said Anya. "You should be careful there."

"You lived here with hostile creatures?" said Dakro.

"They do not move. We do not hurt them, and they do not hurt us," said Anya.

"Ah, well, I removed those," said Dakro. "Just some old records, but mostly too water-damaged to be useful."

"That is good," said Anya.

Dakro then parted company, and headed back to Pentil, and Rydell's hall.

"Rydell, I have found another means by which we can bring this isle to obedience," said Dakro. "We must assist those outsiders who are opposed to this Trajkov. They follow the true will of the Shapers, and can be found north of here."

"The north? Close to here? We had no idea. This is strange," said Rydell. "It is hard to think any outsider in lands Barred by the Shapers could mean for the true will to come further into being. But we will meet with them, and maybe we could find common ground."

"They are foes of the Takers," said Dakro. "And thus, they lie closer to the true will of the Shapers."

"We will do as you ask, Shaper," said Rydell.

"Good," said Dakro. "Now I travel for other places." He found himself peculiarly reticent to discuss his plans further with Rydell.

Dakro continued north again, pausing to inform Astrov of the fact that the serviles of Pentil would aid him, and then north again. Here, he came to a wooded area filled with ruins, and in one clearing, a battle alpha standing there.

 _'It looks like a young one. This is strange-he was either recently created, or else they have begun breeding. But I thought they were sterile,'_ thought Dakro _._

The battle alpha slapped itself on the chest and shouted, "I am Aitch."

 _'Well, that's a standard name. All battle alphas in a unit are given a preset name ... makes it easier to keep them standard,'_ thought Dakro, who shook his head, realizing that he had yet to meet a truly standard creation, except for perhaps Greeter in the servile warren.

"This Freeplace! We no want Shapers here. No follow no more," said Aitch. "We greater than Shapers. I challenge you. Duel! Duel!" He raised his arms in the air, roared, and lunged forward.

"Fine, rogue," said Dakro. "I will destroy you."

After destroying Aitch, Dakro continued into the lair of a large group of battle alphas. The creatures had been made to function in groups, but seeing how they tried to live on their own was, in a bleak way, comical.

Battle alphas were made in part to do work like building trenches and fortifications, and they had done well in widening the natural caves, even laid down a crude wooden floor as they were intended to do. However, the rooms were full of random items, apparently with no awareness of the purpose of such items, food gathered and allowed to rot.

Dakro made short work of the battle alphas that came to attack him, and continued exploring this lair. After that, he came to another building which had, up until recently, been a recharging and shaping station, maintained by a servant mind. The essence and healing pools were still alive, though now that they were uncared for, they were unlikely to be so for much longer. Recently, someone had raided the place, slaying the servant mind, and attempting to smash the pools with hammers.

As he looked more closely, Dakro realized that the servant mind had not been slain by weapons as he had expected, but by magical fire and acid. _'Trajkov,'_ he thought. _'That outsider shall pay!'_

Turning westward, Dakro came to a wasteland, but within that waste he saw a structure which once again reminded him that someone had dwelt on this island before the Shapers. Whoever they were, he was developing some respect for them, the vault he had just found was an impressive piece of architecture, all the more so for its age.

The walls were covered with inscriptions, but Dakro did not understand the writing, and even if he had, the entries were too old and worn to be legible. Nonetheless, it spoke of a long history and complicated language. No matter how interesting the ancient history might be, contemporary additions drew Dakro's attention. There were numerous mines here, as well as a host of turrets and detection crystals.

 _'These are not the sloppy creations of the outsiders,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Undoubtedly, this is the work of the one they called Goettsch, for it is the result of recent work by a skilled Shaper. At least the mines aren't currently primed to explode, but who knows when that should change.'_

Deciding that the mines were too dangerous to him at this time, should they become primed, Dakro left the crypt, and carefully made his way around to the bandit woods north of Vakkiri, and from thence up to the dry wastes.

An ancient sign dating back to the time of the Shapers warned that this was the dry wastes, and to be on guard against hostile spirits. The valley was dry, dusty, and barren, and appeared to have been so for a very long time. Something afflicted the area with horrible sickness, and it looked like it had already been the case when the Shapers were on the isle.

The valley wasn't devoid of life, however, for Dakro noticed the evidence of many clawbugs. Indeed, soon after, he found that the clawbugs were attacking, and he did his best to repel them, finding there was little respite from fighting in this wasteland.

Continuing west, Dakro came to a dusty forest of dead and petrified trees. Gnawed bones were found everywhere, of varying ages, and there was a heavy vinegar smell in the air, and the sharp rhythm of clicking claws and mandibles could be heard through the otherwise quiet.

Defeating the spawner, the clawbugs and plated bugs, and the occasional ghost, Dakro made his way around, finding the corner of a standing ruin, and within those bounds, an old Shaper notebook that looked to have been there since the island was Barred, nearly all destroyed by exposure to elements.

 _Truly the natives who settled the island before us were a strange people. A mixture of savagery and cunning, of simple beliefs, and strange, necromantic powers._

 _At last I have received assistance. Five Guardians will help me safely explore the massive ruins. It is hard to get attention and resources, because of all the excitement about the Geneforge, but ... Dakro carefully turned the pages past the illegible section, and resumed reading._

 _Their power was so great that, even now, their shades are still potent and dangerous. We can defeat them, but it is dangerous, especially since they resist ..._ "Resist what?" said Dakro, frustrated, and he skipped down to where he could again read.

 _... and then enter the largest ruins at the northwest corner of the island._

 _'Enter the largest ruins, eh ... suppose Goettsch got there, and now I've got to find a way there ...'_ thought Dakro _._

Slowly, carefully, Dakro made his way around, slaying spawners, clawbugs and worse, until finally the area no longer had the heavy stench of vinegar. He moved on, entering a maze of narrow valleys. The walls were dead, bare stone scoured out of the rock by centuries of harsh winds. Nothing grew here, and the wind howled up and down the valleys, but Dakro could also hear snarling. It was hard to see because of the dust stinging his eyes, but he believed he had seen something moving very fast down the paths.

Carefully making his way through the passages, he came under attack many times, and then he entered a warm, comfortable steaming bathhouse. As soon as Dakro was inside, the sound of the wind outside died away, and the warmth made him feel comfortable and drowsy.

The objects in the room were strange, and Dakro was sure he could see through them if he concentrated. There were two pools at the south end of the room, still full of water.

 _'Bizarre, that they should be ready for use,'_ thought Dakro _. 'It is no doubt a trap, to turn me into a ghost like those I have been fighting.'_

Regretfully leaving the pools behind, Dakro continued his explorations, and came to another passage where the sounds of the wind howling outside became quiet, and he noticed bones on the floor-not all of them old, and some quite new. The place was icy cold, and Dakro felt himself become nervous.

He came at last to a crypt, and slid the lid off. Inside was a mummified body still in amazing condition-garments had rotted away, but the form was pristine. There was a gold ring on its finger, and Dakro thought it looked easy to slip off-and he wanted it. He felt the wind swirling around him, picking up puffs of dust and lifting them up around him, and then Dakro took the ring. It came away easily, as though often removed, and then he heard angry howling in the distance.

Dakro continued exploring, finding what looked like the hovel of some of these strange people who had been here before the Shapers. _'But it cannot be,'_ he thought, _'this house is filled with things that are all new.'_

Looking closer, he realized it was another illusionary place, except for the box that was rattling up and down, as though trying to open itself. Dakro, throwing caution to the winds, opened the box. The box at first seemed to be empty of all but dust, but then the dust swirled and formed into two figures. When these were felled, Dakro found a dagger, and he took it with him, even though he preferred the thorn batons.

Defeating angry spirits, at last he got a good look at a gateway. It was not Shaper construction, but a ruin nonetheless, carved out of solid granite, square and angular, while large Shaper buildings tended to be curved.

Continuing past the formidable guards, Dakro came into a ruined city. By Shaper standards, it was small-several rows of buildings hewn out of the walls of a mountain. However, it once again spoke of a civilization which had not been that of savages, as might have otherwise been thought. Some of the buildings had collapsed, but most were intact. To some degree, one could say that they were still occupied, as ghosts walked along the streets and in and out of buildings. The ghosts did not seem hostile, but Dakro was sure that would change if he were to enter one of the homes.

Dakro continued, marking the pathways, and then he found another one where things seemed to change, as though they were newer, not exposed to millennia of weather like the other buildings. Like some of the places he had seen on his way here, they seemed waxy, strange, almost unreal. At the end of the path, he saw an old hovel hollowed out of the rock, and heard angry muttering from inside.

Curious, he came to the hovel, where a spirit began attacking him, and he retaliated. Soon, the spirit was put to rest, though his search revealed no apparent reason for the hostility. From here, he stepped into an ancient temple, a massive structure with huge halls carved out of the solid stone. The walls were covered in writing, but not what looked like scriptures, names or the like-almost like magical notes, diagrams, and instructions.

 _'It all seems somehow familiar, but I can't put my finger on it,'_ thought Dakro _._ He continued, finding a place where the magical notes seemed denser, the chairs positioned for close examination _. 'How odd-that diagram looks like a fyora ... twisted and small, but it's a fyora.'_

Finding his way here blocked by runes which made him feel ill at the thought of crossing, and by battle betas which made it quite clear that they would do nothing so long as he kept his distance, Dakro went back as he had come, and wandered into another wasteland, defeating the rogues which crossed his path as he went about.

 _'The serviles have been industriously scouring Shaper ruins for supplies of value, but I've never seen such an array of old, crumbling debris. Broken vats, rusty equipment, used canisters, and all manner of trash,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Useful stuff must go to those villages, but here's where the junk comes to die.'_

Still, the building ahead seemed well-made, and Dakro entered. Upon his entry, a servile came up to greet him, apparently unaffected by the fact that he was a Shaper.

"Greetings. Welcome to our humble trash pit," she said. "I am Proof, the trader here."

"Aren't you worried by the rogues outside?" asked Dakro.

"No, those vlish-or their ancestors-have been living out here for many, many years. They are old rogues. We feed them. They leave us alone," said Proof. "The old rogues very rarely threaten serviles. Only when they are scared or hungry."

Deciding not to mention that he'd been immediately attacked, Dakro said, "What about the rogues who do attack serviles?"

"Those are the new rogues," said Proof. "They appeared only recently. Only after the outsiders came."

"Have you seen the outsiders?" said Dakro.

"Very little. They entered these mountains, and the vlish chased them out. We spend most of our time scavenging the wastes," said Proof. "The wastes are full of old rogues, and the outsiders stay away from there."

"What sort of things are around here?" said Dakro.

"To the west and north are the Dry Wastes. Many of the old spirits, many vicious rogues. Very few serviles are brave enough to go out there," said Proof. "To the south are settled lands, and Vakkiri and Pentil. Sane serviles. To the east is the river and then the research halls. The old Shaper halls. There are many outsiders and rogues. Very dangerous."

"What sorts of things are in the dry wastes?" asked Dakro.

"Ah now there is a mystery. I don't know. The Shapers, when they were here, only rarely went out there. There are ruins, old ruins, of the people who live here long ago, before the Shapers came," said Proof. "At least that is what the old Shaper records say. I found mentions that the Shapers built a tomb out there once. But that is all I found."

"What do you know about this tomb?" said Dakro.

"Almost nothing. It would be a place of great honor, for the greatest researchers of the Shapers on the island," said Proof. "I don't know where it was, or what would be put into it."

"Have you seen anything else unusual?" asked Dakro.

"Well, there are the woods due west of here. They're filled with clawbugs now. Very dangerous," said Proof. "Before the rogues appeared, though, I'd sometimes see a thahd wandering around out there. Didn't see it very often. It avoided me. One strange thing about it. It was always clutching this stone crescent to its chest."

"Interesting," said Dakro. "I would be interested in trading with you, but I don't see anything of particular interest. Do you have anything better?"

"Yes. Yes, we do. Hidden. Special things, which we are saving to sell for money for emergencies," said Proof. "But you are the Shaper. We might trade with you if you help us."

"Help you how?" said Dakro with a raised eyebrow.

"To the west, through the wastes, you will find a large gate. Some miles to the west. There are large stone pillars around it, and many ghosts," said Proof. "None of us have been able to explore and scavenge beyond that gate, because of the spirits. But you might be able to clear it so we can go past there. If you clear that gateway, I will let you see our special stash."

"Oh that?" said Dakro. "I killed all of the shades at the gate to the ruins already."

"Thank you, Shaper. I do not now if that will help. Perhaps there is nothing to scavenge beyond. But we will try," said Proof. "If you wish, I can let you buy some of our rare items."

"I'd like to see if you have anything of ... quality," said Dakro.

After trading with Proof, he went into the shop further. Here he saw a jittery old servile working hard to repair an old thorn baton. At first Dakro thought he had not been noticed, but then he realized that the servile was working hard to calm himself.

"Welcoming to the Shaper. Welcome. I am Shock. I..." said the servile. "Welcome to our tiny shop."

"There is no need to be afraid," said Dakro. "I will not harm you."

"All serviles on this island fear you. I hear the gossip. I hear what they say. I hear them talk when they come to trade," said Shock. "We are all terrified of the return of the Shapers. Until your council says we can remain as we are, the terror will remain."

"I understand," said Dakro. Leaving these wastes, he decided it was time to see if his skills had improved sufficiently to safeguard him during his travels in the ancient crypt, and indeed it was so. As he did so, he came to a pylon carved with many intricate inscriptions and drawings. At the base of the obelisk, he found a concealed compartment with a small ivory staff within. Not sure what it was, but figuring it might prove useful, Dakro took it.

Moving on, he came to what appeared to be a general crypt, where the bones of the less impressive dead had been stacked over many years. Long lists of names were on the walls, the sole records of the countless souls interred here. Dakro felt an icy breeze strike him, and sensed a hostile presence ahead. A strong breeze blew through the tunnels, picking up a great deal of dust.

Continuing through the confusing tunnels, Dakro came to a wider room, and at the far end, there was a restless ghost in the corridor ahead, standing at attention, seeming to be watching over something. For the moment, it was unaware of Dakro.

Moments later, Dakro's luck failed, and the ghost took notice of him and attacked. However, Dakro and his creations were more than able to repulse this spirit, and he continued on his way, stopping short when he saw even more mines. Carefully making his way though, disarming crystals and triggering mines and running to safety, Dakro made his way through, breathing a sigh of relief.

Reaching the far end of the ancient crypt, Dakro saw he was in a wasteland again, and that a massive old cryodrayk was lumbering toward him. It seemed perfectly comfortable in the chill of these hills, and not ready to immediately attack.

It said, "Ah, another Shaper has returned. Another Shaper to deal with besides Goettsch. I need to speak with you now. You are in great danger."

"What sort of danger am I in?" said Dakro.

Rhakkus said, "Well, even now, my drayk servants have begun to hunt you. When they find your scent, they will relentlessly slay you."

"Why have they turned on me?" said Dakro.

"Because the other Shaper, Goettsch, was here before you. When he fled into these hills, he met me. He soon saw that I would not obey him. So he bought my alliance," said Rhakkus. "I have commanded my drayks to destroy you. But because I still feel some gratitude to the Shapers for my creation, I will give you this warning. Leave now, and you will be safe."

 _'Goettsch! I must speak with this one,'_ thought Dakro. "What Shaper created you?" he asked _._

"It was long ago, and not important," said Rhakkus. "His name was Defniel. He left the island and left me here. Alone."

"Goettsch bought your help?" said Dakro. "How?"

"My kind, as created by you, has a certain lust for money. You Shapers tried to breed it out of us, but to no avail. Goettsch offered me gold and jewels, stolen from the Sholai," said Rhakkus. "And I accepted."

"And can I, perhaps buy safe passage from you?" asked Dakro.

Rhakkus grinned, and said, "You Shapers are not as proud as I remember you being. Such crass trade with a mere creation? I am amused. Still, I owe Goettsch no great loyalty. If you give me twenty-five hundred coins, I will instruct my servants to be ... shall we say ... less aggressive in chasing you."

"Tell me about Goettsch," said Dakro.

"I met him over a month ago. He was fleeing up into these hills, escaping the Sholai, leaving traps and creations behind him," said Rhakkus. "Once he saw that I was a free creature, a rogue in your terms, he spoke with me fairly. Then he continued on."

"Where is Goettsch now?" said Dakro.

"He is to the west, in the temple, the largest building in these ruins. He is on the other side of the ruins of a city," said Rhakkus. "If you see him, you may be able to talk with him. He seemed a rational soul."

"What do you know about these ruins?" said Dakro.

"When the Shapers were here, when I was created, these ruins were already ancient and already infested with ghosts," replied Rhakkus. "The Shapers had just begun to explore them and try to learn their secrets when this island was Barred."

"I have made my decision," said Dakro. "I will not submit to you, rogue. Do your worst."

Rhakkus shrugged its reptilian shoulders and said, "I will. If you survive, I will speak with you again, Shaper."

Just as Dakro had discovered a warren, he and his creations came under attack by a group of cyrodrayks, and using the narrowness of the hall to their advantage, they defeated the rogues. This done, Dakro made his way down the hall.

Here, he met an old, hunched over servile hermit. Despite his age and physical weakness, he had a strange, authoritative aura around him.

 _'He is nothing more than a mere creation, not an equal,'_ Dakro told himself sternly.

With difficulty, the hermit rose when Dakro entered. "I am Halm. Welcome to my cave," he said.

"What are you doing out here?" said Dakro.

"I prefer to live alone. To think. To give advice when advice is sought. I used to live close to the cities. No longer. Their sects have gone mad," said Halm. "Each sect began with a grain of wisdom. But that grain has, in each case, been blown away by the winds of rigidity and fanaticism."

"Why did you move?" said Dakro. "And tell me what you think of them."

"The rogues. The warfare, servile versus servile. The outsiders. The madness. I had to leave. To come up here was dangerous. Though the shades of these ruins did not, for some reason, attack me, it was a terrifying journey. Now that I am here, I will remain until sanity returns," said Halm. "The Awakened want equality from the Shapers, but the Shapers will never give it. They are questing for the impossible. The Obeyers worship you as gods, but you are not gods. There is no truth in this path. The Takers wish war. War is not necessary. They throw in with your enemies. This path will only get them destroyed."

"What can you tell me about these ruins?" said Dakro.

"They are very old. But I am sure you know that. They are full of capricious ghosts, who may attack outsiders. That much is clear as well," said Halm. "To the west, you will find the core of the ruined city. There are many living chambers, and shops, and an enormous temple."

"What do you know about the temple?" said Dakro.

"There is another Shaper there. I don't know anything about him but his name. Goettsch," said Halm. "I have never been there. Too dangerous. Too many shades."

"Do you know Rhakkus?" said Dakro.

"We are cordial. I was able to convince him that I was no threat," said Halm. "He respects my wisdom, and I respect his age."

"You are strangely confident for a servile," said Dakro.

"Perhaps. Perhaps I am. I have spent my life learning how to best communicate, to convince others of my point of view and my good intentions," said Halm. "I have, in the past, shared my rhetorical gifts with others. Convincing others of things is a skill. It can be learned."

"Then would you teach me these secrets?" said Dakro.

Halm nodded, and said, "I can. I can teach you, for a donation. Give me two thousand coins, and I will tell you some of what I know."

"You are a hermit!" Dakro could not contain his astonishment. "What would you do with all that money?"

"I would use it. Turbulent times are coming. We serviles will need to interact with others. We will need to trade," said Halm. "When that time comes, I will use your donation to better the lot of my kind."

"Very well,"said Dakro. "It intrigues me."

Halm directed Dakro to sit down, facing him. Then Halm began to talk. He told stories, he told of his life, of the serviles, of the trials they suffered since the Shapers left. Dakro paid careful attention, not just to what he said, but to how he said it. His calm, hypnotic voice and mode of phrasing was very useful and interesting. Hours passed swiftly.

Dakro stood and thanked Halm for his help.

Halm looked quite tired, and said, "Forgive me, Shaper. Now I must rest."

Dakro left, and continued exploring. There was an ancient stone pillar, far older than anything the Shapers had built here.

 _'It must have been placed here by natives before the Shapers came. Cliff walls seem to have sheltered it from the wind,'_ thought Dakro. He noticed that there was one smooth spot on the pillar, while the rest was carved with crude humanoid figures, all in a long line, touching the pillar as they walked past. Finding it strangely compelling, Dakro reached out to touch the bare spot _._

Feeling no different, he continued, finding the entrance to another ruined crypt. There were inscriptions on many of the walls, all written in the lost language of the extinct natives. The walls and floor were covered with frost, though Dakro didn't know whether this was a cause or a result of the cyrodrayks living here.

Continuing within, Dakro heard the sound of a reptilian throat clearing, and Rhakkus said, "Stop, Shaper. I will not have you approach my hoard."

"Whatever, rogue," said Dakro. "I will not submit to you. Do your worst."

Dakro and Rhakkus fought, then, and Rhakkus fled as Dakro had come close to slaying the clever beast. Dakro helped himself to the best of Rhakkus' treasure, and made his way back to the once heavily-trapped ancient crypt. Within, he found another pillar like the one before, and the same compulsion brought him to rub the bare spot on this pillar.

As he continued, Dakro found more pillars in the areas he had passed through before, the compulsion overtaking him even as he thought of entering that strange temple with its runes. One had had its carvings concealed by thick mineral deposits from constant water dripping, but Dakro still could make out a smooth spot, and he reasoned that must be where he should touch, and he did so.

Finally reaching the outer precincts of the temple, Dakro touched the bare spot on one last ancient pillar. This time, however, he felt quite different-there was a warm, blessed sensation that came over him, and a strange, almost overpowering desire to enter the temple.

Entering the temple, the runes remained unchanged as Dakro passed over. Once inside, however, he felt cold and alone, and very unwelcome. He sensed shadowy eyes watching carefully from darkness, waiting for a misstep, that he might be devoured.

Approaching the altar, he met yet another ancient ghost. It surprised Dakro in two ways-first, that it did not attack, and second, when it began to speak, it spoke in his language perfectly clearly.

 _'Must be magic at work,'_ thought Dakro _._

"Hello, visitor. I welcome you, as long as you bring peace and do not go where you are not bidden," said the priest spirit. "Have you found the secret yet?"

"What secret?" said Dakro.

Pointing to the northeast passage, the spirit said, "There. You may go there. Only there. There is the secret. When you have seen the secret, return."

Burning with the desire to know the secret that had eluded the Shapers of two centuries past, Dakro made his way to the designated passage.

Dakro entered a plain room, and stopped short as he immediately recognized the main feature of the plain room, a tiny stone platform, very bare, very rough, very old, but its purpose was still clear.

 _'Could it be? Could the natives who lived here be, in some way, the ancestors of the Shapers? Could this be the home of my people?'_ thought Dakro _. 'It might, in some way, be what drew my people here to do their research. Something found in these ruins might have been the catalyst which helped the Shapers here discover such astonishing things. Or maybe it is just a strange coincidence. How can I ever know?'_

Dakro returned to the central chamber, and the priest spirit said, "Now we will speak further. I will discuss the secret."

"Are you the ancestors of my people?" said Dakro.

"Yes. That is the secret," said the priest spirit. "You performed the rituals, and you entered, and I share with you what has been shared with no other."

Dakro felt a surge of excitement- _'I have knowledge no other Shaper has!'_ he thought, and then he asked, "What happened to you?"

"We had magic. Our people, we had magic. We did all we could with it. Then we used it to discover things. We looked deep below the earth and beyond the sun," said the priest spirit. "And then we looked within. We looked deep within ourselves, our bodies."

"What did you see there?" said Dakro, excitedly.

"You know. You know the secret. You know how to use magic to rebuild life. It all started here, in this temple. We turned it from a place of worship to a place of work," said the priest spirit. "We worked on warping life, remaking it, reshaping it for our purposes. And thus this building was the seed of our doom."

Not liking the sound of that, Dakro said, "Doom? How?"

"We used the power as a weapon. And as a bludgeon. We were not careful. Not precise. Our magicians randomly warped our enemies. Twisted their parts, destroyed their organs. Made them fail," said the priest spirit. "We tried to form an empire against the savages around us, starting here. But the random way we attacked changed things. Created horrible creatures, stronger than what we attacked. Made diseases."

"And then?" said Dakro, thinking of the wastelands he had seen.

"Most of us died. The rest fled this place, fled these green lands, which became infected dusty wastes. Taking with us our secrets and our wisdom. We went to the mainland," said the priest spirit. "And then, I would guess, we became you. There, the story ends."

"If our people are the same," said Dakro, "can you get the ghosts to stop attacking me?"

"Not ghosts. Some of our kind, with magic and knowledge of Shaping, they adopted that form, striving for long life. I was one such. Only I maintained my thoughts. All the rest became mindless, haunted beings, waiting for the release of death. The mercy," said the priest spirit. "I cannot control them. Nobody can. They have no minds to control anymore."

"My people were here for awhile, researching," said Dakro. "Did they ever contact you?"

"No, but had they stayed longer, they would have," said the priest spirit. "And I would have spoken with them. But they were too distracted. So they never came."

"There are enemies of our people on this island," said Dakro. "Will you help me?"

"I have little mind left, only enough to tell stories and to defend this sacred place," said the priest spirit. "That is all I can do. I cannot even understand what you just said."

"I understand," said Dakro, and he left, pushing through the battle betas and battle gammas, and the terror vlish, dissolving them into the essence from which they had sprung.

With the way suddenly clear to continue, Dakro suddenly felt the urge ... to go elsewhere.


	12. Chapter 11

Thought overwhelmed Dakro, and he strode back through the wastes, suddenly unsure he was ready to confront Goettsch without having thought about the things he had learned about the ancestors of the Shapers, and sorting through the ways that all the groups of serviles were determined to use him. _'The Awakened, the Obeyers, the Takers, the Outsiders ... everyone is trying to make me do something. The Obeyers are the only ones I trust, and even then, not so much ...'_ thought Dakro. _'And then there's the Geneforge, and the ancestors, and all these wastelands. The wastelands are here from the ancestors, and there are wastelands around the area where the Geneforge is ... could such things be related?'_

Lost in thought as he was, Dakro still stopped short. Ahead, mines had been planted along the corridor he had just entered. ' _A skilled Shaper. These are well-made, and large. Big enough to kill off all but the hardiest persons.'_ The sensors atop the mines were standing in a neutral position. Dakro looked again, spotting a central crystal which would detonate its surrounding mines. ' _Someone wants to stop ... or at least hinder ... progress through these ruins.'_

Dakro reached into a pouch, pulling from within a pod which he chewed, and suddenly the world around him slowed, time seemed to move like molasses around him as he jumped from crystal to crystal, causing it to short-circuit without detonating the deadly mines around him.

Taking a long cleansing breath as the time seemed to restore its natural rhythm, he entered into a ruined warehouse.

A shade here held up one hand and said, "Stop. I am the first of the guardians. We all will take a toll before you may pass. Speak with me, so I may feed," said the shade.

Dakro stepped closer. The shade stood in the middle of the room, a wispy, insubstantial thing, though he noted it radiated powerful heat. _'Seems like a creation,'_ thought Dakro. _'Though I've never seen anything quite like it.'_

Speaking in a low, droning voice, the shade said, "I am a guardian. The first. All who pass must pay a price."

"Who created you, shade?" asked Dakro.

The shade pointed to the west, and said, "That way lies the answer."

"Well, that's not much of an answer," said Dakro. "What price is it that I'm expected to pay?"

"I must take your strength. I must make you weak," said the shade. "Only if you let me feed will I let you pass."

"I really don't think I like those terms," said Dakro. "How about I just kill you instead."

"Then I will take all your strength, and all you will ever have," said the shade.

The fight was over quickly, and Dakro looked at his creations. "That wasn't so tough," he said. "I'm glad I didn't give in."

Continuing to the west, Dakro came to another room with a shade standing in the middle of the room. Standing near the thing made him feel sluggish, and he reached into his pouch and quickly ate another pod.

The shade spoke in a low, droning voice like that of the first one, and said, "I am a guardian. The second. All who pass must pay a price."

"And I suppose you were made by someone to the west, too?" said Dakro.

The shade shook in negation, and pointed south. "That way lies the answer."

"And what do **you** want?" said Dakro.

"I must take your speed. I must make you slow and sluggish," said the guardian. "Only if you let me feed will I let you pass."

"The first one let me pass just fine after I slew it," said Dakro. "I'm sure you'll be the same way. I won't pay."

"Then I will take all your speed, and soon you will never move again," said the shade.

Another fight was enjoined, and Dakro again looked at his creations afterward, for the fight had been easy. Continuing to the south, Dakro found another shade in the middle of the room, and he felt rather slow and weak in the presence of the cold engendered by the thing.

Speaking in the same manner as the first two shades, it said, "I am a guardian. The third. All who pass must pay a price."

"And who created you?" said Dakro.

The shade pointed east, and said, "That way lies the answer. Heustess is beyond."

"And what price is it you want?" said Dakro.

"I must take your thoughts. I will have the secrets in the treasure house of your mind," said the shade. "Only if you let me feed will I let you pass."

"You will also let me pass after I have slain you," said Dakro. "I'm not going to pay."

Again, battle was enjoined, and again Dakro defeated the shade guardian. Finally he came to a room where he saw a strange being-it was not a shade, but appeared to be a tiny, warped human, wrapped in a thick field of dark, shimmering energy. It seemed frail, but power could be felt-the creature was horribly old.

Dakro realized that it was communicating in a way other than regular speech, as he heard the words, "I am Heustess, guardian of the ruins. I wait here. And I take my tolls."

"Who or what are you?" said Dakro.

"I am the descendant. I am the survivor. I am the blessed and the cursed. I am what remains from the war," said Heustess. "I remember. I wait for the chance for revenge."

"I don't understand," said Dakro.

"These ruins. They were the center. They were an empire. They had foul magic, the ability to warp life, to change it, to twist it. They used this power to change those who opposed them," said Heustess. "My people were fought by them, and their war-mages changed our soldiers. Their organs jellied, and their minds burned, and they fell. Each changed, each in a different way. Sometimes harmless, but usually quick death."

 _'He is a descendant of the foes of my people, but he may not know that I am the descendant of his foes,'_ thought Dakro. "What happened to you?"

"I was changed. But my changes were good. I was strong. So strong. And I led the fight back. Their changes did other things. Diseases were made, where there were no diseases. My warriors and the sickness destroyed their land," said Heustess. "They fled and were gone. And I stayed here, waiting, waiting for them to return so I could slay them. I am the sentinel. I ever wait, gaining what energy I can to sustain myself so that, when they return, I can kill them."

"Wait! Those people you fought? They were my people," said Dakro. "I have been to the temple, and I have learned of this war."

"My wait was not in vain. The enemy has returned! My cause was right," said Heustess.

"And what do I need to pass you?" said Dakro. "Will we fight?"

"I will not need to feed. You can already pass me," said Heustess. "I do not sell to those who do not need."

"What can you tell me about these ruins?" said Dakro.

"They are my home, the rest you must discover for yourself," said Heustess.

Unhappy with that, Dakro continued on, leaving Heustess to stew. _'I should slay him, but ... he has lived this long, and I do not need to. I shall let him live.'_

* * *

Battle alphas were one of the most difficult and powerful creations-massive slabs of muscle with dedicated, albeit tiny, brains. The creature lumbering toward Dakro had clearly been given a series of instructions, which it now carried out.

Lumbering up to him, the creature said, "You in home of Goettsch now. Goettsch say he see and talk with you. You follow me. Stay close. Other creatures here kill you quick."

The creature turned to walk off.

"Tell me about Goettsch," said Dakro.

"I take you to Goettsch now. He tell you all about Goettsch. You follow me," said the creation.

"Very well," said Dakro, muttering under his breath, " for now."

"Yes, you follow," said the creation, and it started off.

This ruin was the largest ancient building Dakro had seen on Sucia Island-an enormous structure with tall, arched stone roofs and massive intact pillars. Guessing from the markings, Dakro reasoned it was probably a temple, maybe even a seat of government-it had been used for a great many things. However, Dakro could see evidence of a new resident-rubble and garbage had accumulated, while tattered banners bearing the Shaper symbol adorned the walls. Dakro thought they looked like they had been brought in from elsewhere, though he wasn't sure where.

Tracks of creations were in the dust, the faint smell of essence, distinctive trails of battle alphas and drayks in the dust. This mighty ruin had recently been commandeered and turned into a Shaper outpost, and an obelisk declared it to be the "Realm of Goettsch".

Following the creation, Dakro and his creations came to what used to be the core of the building. He was still unsure whether the most important ceremonies had been political or religious, be he was sure that they had taken place here. Recently, it had been remodeled, turned into a rough Shaper laboratory.

At the north end of the room, he saw a Shaper, flanked by a pair of loyal serviles. The Shaper was tall and of heavy build, and Dakro was sure he had been strong and skilled even before coming to Sucia. The other Shaper had also used augmentation canisters, and radiated power and confidence, clearly not deigning to see Dakro as any sort of threat.

"Ah, the Shaper has come at last. Welcome. I am Goettsch. You are my guest. Inspect what you want. Take what you want," he said. "As long as you do not wander too far from this chamber, you are safe. Please, now, come speak with me."

Goettsch the Shaper had a detached, arrogant look and a gentle glow-the magic of Sucia Island had powerfully augmented him, and Dakro remembered seeing a similar look when he saw himself in the mirror.

Goettsch looked Dakro over, trying to analyze how strong Dakro had grown, and did not look particularly impressed.

"I am Goettsch, Shaper. I was brought here like you, a victim of the trickery of Trajkov, the outsider, the invader," said Goettsch. "You have gone to great effort to reach me. Now I must know. Why are you here?"

"I have come to speak with you," said Dakro. "I want to learn more about this island."

"I am glad. I would like to parley with you. There is a way you can help me, and the Shaper people. And if you help me, I can help you in return," said Goettsch.

"Don't you know this island is Barred?" said Dakro. "Why are you still here, then?"

"This island is Barred by the Shaper council. You can wander this world for a thousand years, and you will never find a more baffled or impotent group of fools than the Shaper council," said Goettsch. "You have seen the wonders here! You have had a taste of the power and glory that just sits around, ready for the taking! I reject the Shaper council, and all of their foolishness. The power here is our birthright, and I will not let them steal it."

"What was this ruin?" said Dakro.

"I do not know. I do not concern myself with history. It is not relevant to my quest, my new destiny," said Goettsch. "I have adapted this place to my own purposes, and filled it with guards of my choosing. The finest drayks and battle creations. I did not know it was possible to make drayks anymore. Now I can, thanks to the marvelous canisters. So many things our people denied us. So many things I can do now." Goettsch steepled his fingers as he looked at Dakro. "My creations wander these halls, and many of them are ordered to kill strangers on sight. I would suggest restricting your movements. Otherwise, you may be slain."

"I am very interested in learning about the ancients who lived here," said Dakro. "Could you tell your guards not to attack me?"

Goettsch frowned, then thought for a moment before laughing. "If I thought there was a chance that you could possibly hurt me in this elevated state, I would refuse," said Goettsch. "But you are my guest. Go ahead. Wander around. If you enter my chambers or try to go anywhere you should not, my traps will make short work of you. My chambers are in the northwest corner. Stay away."

"So, how did you come to Sucia?" said Dakro.

Goettsch laughed mirthlessly. "The same way you did. I was imprisoned, captured by Trajkov. I was being sent to a new colony, to take it over and administer it. A mild honor at best, though not a position without hope of advancement," said Goettsch. "Then his ship slew my craft, and I swam ashore at the east edge of the island. There, I was abducted."

"By whom?" said Dakro.

"Trajkov. Trajkov and his dummies, his puppets, addled in the brain by Shaper magic beyond them. Trajkov abducted me for the same reason he captured you. He needed a Shaper's help to master the incredible power here," said Goettsch. "He was a fool. How could he think any Shaper in his right mind would help him usurp our sacred secrets? As soon as I figured out what he had found, I took action."

Dakro nodded.

"He had found the Geneforge. It is the most amazing work of Shaper magic I have ever found. It has the power to rework, to remake anyone who uses it, giving them awesome power," said Goettsch, and he laughed. "All you need is a pair of gloves. A special pair of gloves which modulates and channels the power of the Geneforge. He had one pair of those gloves. One happy pair. And I took them. I have them here."

"And what will happen now?" said Dakro.

"I will use the Geneforge. Its power is too great to be wasted, and only I have the strength and control to master it. First, though, there is the stalemate. Trajkov is there. I am here. Neither of us has the strength to defeat the other," said Goettsch. "That is why I have allowed you to reach me without slaying you."

"Any chance I can have those gloves?" said Dakro.

"No," said Goettsch flatly. "There is only one person who will ever use them. Me."

"So what is it you want from me?" said Dakro. "And how do you plan to help me?"

"There is a war on this island. It is a deadly stalemate. At this end, there is me. At the other, Trajkov. Each of us must slay the other. Each has control of something the other needs. Each of us hopes you will break the deadlock," said Goettsch. "Trajkov is too proud to admit that he needs you. I am not. Help me. Kill him. If you do, I will give you what you want. I will give you power. And I will help you escape this accursed island."

"What sort of power will you give me?" said Dakro.

Goettsch laughed, and said, "That would be telling."

"Trajkov is very powerful," said Dakro. "Can you help me kill him?"

"I have a trick which might work. If you were very cunning and clever, you may have a chance," said Goettsch, and he handed Dakro a pair of Shaping gloves. "To use the Geneforge, Trajkov needs a pair of gloves currently in my possession. These are not the gloves. They are an **almost** perfect replica. Take them to Trajkov. If you are exceptionally convincing, you might be able to get him to believe that these are the Shaping Gloves I took. If he tries to use these to use the Geneforge, he will be in for a very painful surprise."

"Can you give me equipment or other help?" said Dakro.

"No. I would much rather keep my resources for myself," said Goettsch. "You are a strong and industrious soul. Help yourself."

"How can I reach Trajkov?" said Dakro.

"That is your concern. He holds the research halls at the northeast corner of the island," said Goettsch. "I'm sure you can figure out how to reach him somehow."

"Thank you," said Dakro. "I would like to study what I can find of the ancients, I believe it will be of help."

Goettsch gave Dakro a negligent gesture of dismissal.

The place was clearly a temple, and he studied the pillars, and then stumbled onto Goettsch's quarters. As the battle gammas moved to attack, Dakro joined them in the fight, and he and his creations defeated Goettsch's creations.

Moving into the room, Dakro found a wondrous sword, some other things, and then in the next room, defended by box mines which he handily disabled, he found a case. Inside were a pair of Shaping gloves. Dakro knew this sort of item-powerful magical items, half-crafted, half-shaped, half-alive, half-dead, full of hundreds of tiny tubes and valves. Shaping gloves were used to interact with the most powerful Shaper experiments. They controlled and modulated energy, allowing the researcher to sample and absorb energy while being protected from it. This was a very old, and extraordinarily well-made pair, resting on a velvet pillow.

 _'Or maybe it will be me, not Goettsch, not Trajkov, not any of those who have tried to use me,'_ thought Dakro, and he took the gloves. As he lifted the gloves up and tucked them away, he heard a keening alarm.

 _'Damn, a magical trap, I should have known,'_ thought Dakro _. 'I doubt there is anyone who didn't hear that. I shall have to fight my way out of here.'_

Moving carefully, using the strange angles of the halls, Dakro and his creations slowly moved around the halls, drawing Goettsch's creations to them, picking them off by ones and twos.

Finally, he came back to where Goettsch was.

"I told you, no one would use those gloves but me," said Goettsch, sending searing balls of acidic stuff at Dakro and his creations.

"I decided I want to make my own destiny," said Dakro. "Not take the leavings of those who have been trying to use and manipulate me." He used his thorn baton. "I'm glad we talked, it filled in some holes in my knowledge. But now, I think I am prepared to see to it that the one who uses Geneforge is me!"

The serviles fell easily, for Dakro had only meant to remove the distraction, and finally he and his creations were able to concentrate on Goettsch.

"You are stronger than I realized," gasped Goettsch, and then the acidic covering from Dakro's searing artila penetrated, and Goettsch died in a puddle of blood and acid.

Taking time to verify that none of Goettsch's servants remained alive, Dakro looted the place of Goettsch's things, and left the temple.

 _'I am stronger than he thought, I know more than any other Shaper,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Now I must finish exploring this island for whatever secrets it still holds ... and then I shall deal with this Trajkov. But first, there is that Shaper Crypt. Trajkov can do nothing until I go to deal with him, but first-there will be many secrets hidden within. I am stronger than Goettsch, stronger than anyone, and I am now strong enough to deal with those guards and learn the secrets for the power I will need.'_

* * *

The guards seemed to be never ending, and he noticed one place that seemed to be a generation center, but there was no way that he could see to disable it, and so Dakro resigned himself to fighting off the creation-guards of the crypt.

He found the servant mind of the crypt, clearly made to live a very long time. It was a hardy variety with a thick skin and a predisposition to sleep as much as possible. It seemed poorly made, which puzzled Dakro. It was unconscious, possibly from lack of nourishment, but Dakro could find no nutrients, nor did he want to waste any on this one. Prodding it with a finger, the mind looked up at him, and asked "Anything else, Shaper?" but Dakro could not get it to come fully awake, and so he left the poor creation alone.

Finding one door labeled "to the inner crypt" he found a Shaper symbol nearby, with a plain gray stone crescent about five inches high, which had been placed into a hole carefully carved for it, and would not budge. Dakro remembered getting a similar one dropped by a ghost in the wastelands, and wondered if it would be of use to him. He certainly hoped so, for he did not care to continue carrying it.

Moving down the hall, he saw another similar Shaper symbol. This one, however, had a hole in the middle, in the shape of a crescent half an inch deep and five inches high. Dakro pulled out the crescent stone he had obtained, and tried it in the hole. With a humming sound, it fused itself into the hole, and Dakro returned to the door between the two symbols, which now opened at his approach.

Dakro entered the inner crypt, seeing that the construction here looked shoddy, as though the workers had been in a great hurry. Some corners were unfinished, and poor workmanship had resulted in some crumbled bits. The air was icy cold, and he could hear low, angry growls as long-dormant guardians came to life. Dakro saw no signs that anyone else had ever come this far.

 _'I suppose this means that all the defenses of the inner crypt will be at full strength for me,' thought Dakro._

He continued, fighting his way through, and found that there were some highly heated plates on the floor. Unable to turn those off, he made his way through running at full speed. The crypts within, he found were some of the most important Shapers of the time that he now knew was the study resulting in the creation of the Geneforge. Studying at the tombs, he learned more, passing the tombs of Corata and Defniel, and finally reaching that of Danette, who had apparently taken on life as the undead.

Despite the difficulty, Dakro slew Danette's present form, and greedily took the belt that was dropped, and used the four canisters which he found within the room behind her tomb.

"Thank you very much," said Dakro to the newly re-deceased Danette. "Had I not ended up here, perhaps I would not miss this, but now I know what my destiny shall be. And the Barring ... well, that's no concern now."

With that, he left the crypts, returning to where he had left his creations, and then he left the Shaper Crypts altogether.

Stepping out into the wasteland of Diazarad, Dakro considered his options, and decided that it was time to return to Masha to tell her about the meeting he had had with Astrov. He moved with confidence through the parts of the island he had already traveled through, pausing occasionally to slay the errant rogue that crossed his path.

Finally, reaching the caves again, he found Masha, and said, "I have met Astrov, and he is well."

"Marvelous news! I am glad he is able to help you. Trust him and his wisdom," said Masha. "If you want to deal with traitor Trajkov, you should speak with Astrov much. He knows more than me now of the way things are."

"Very well," said Dakro. "I have spoken with him, and I have some idea of how to deal with Trajkov now."


	13. Chapter 12

Dakro had spent time resting after the exertions of dealing the Goettsch and the Shaper Crypt, and finally decided on his means of approach, heading north into the wastelands again until he came to the region of the power station. ' _I have more to learn, and more strength to gain. It won't matter-Trajkov won't know that Goettsch has given the gloves to me.'_

He ascended into the narrow, rocky mountain valley, and noticed his hair standing on end, as sparks occasionally flew from his clothes and weapons.

 _'Ah, so the power station is nearby, and at least partially functional,'_ thought Dakro. _'Smells like fyoras, too.'_

He continued, finding fyoras which seemed to have been changed by long-standing exposure to the power station, slaying them, and finally finding a cabinet which contained a stone shaped like a long crystal, but black like onyx. It seemed to have tiny flashes of light under the surface, and was warm to the touch. Sure that such a thing would prove useful, Dakro took it.

In his explorations, he discovered a drayk which seemed to be controlling the strange fyoras, and he slew that, and finally made his way into the chamber of the servant mind. The servant mind was unable to respond, and Dakro realized that it was near starving. He took another jar of mind nutrients, and began to feed the creature.

It was a slow, messy job, as the creature started out completely immobile, and Dakro had to scoop the food, one tiny globule at a time until the creation had regained enough strength to finish eating on its own.

Finally, the mind spoke, voice weak but understandable.

The mind said, "I am happy, Shaper. I can serve again. I am Mind Azzo. I am the controller of the power station in the Shaper absence. I did not have the strength to withstand the loss of food. Worse, rogues have stripped away my crystals. I am weak and unable to control the station without them."

"What sort of rogues are in this area?" said Dakro.

"Inside the station, there are the shades. The Shapers made them to watch over and run the station. They are immune to the dangerous energies inside. But they are mercurial creatures, and they needed me to control them," replied Azzo. "Now the control is lost, and I cannot regain it."

"How many shades are left?" asked Dakro.

"Your people left machinery to make new shades to replace the ones who dissolved. So there are many," replied Azzo.

 _'Such automation has been outlawed for centuries,'_ thought Dakro. _'All too easy for much carnage to follow if no one is watching them. But that must be what was at work in the crypt, and I survived that.'_

"What sort of things do you control?" asked Dakro.

"I control the defenses and shade spawner in the station. I control the doors. I control the conduits through which the magical power flows to and from the stones," replied Azzo. "I cannot make power spirals though, or repair them. That requires skilled artisans of your kind."

Looking at the holes in Azzo's stone berth, Dakro said, "Your crystals were stolen?"

"They were taken by mischievous shades, and hidden. They did not like my influence, so they acted to remove it. Without them, I cannot control anything. Including, I should mention, the doors to nearby supply chambers," said Azzo. "The missing crystals are black, multi-faceted, and as long as your forearm. If you could replace them in my base, I could be of much greater aid to you."

"Where are the crystals?" asked Dakro.

"I do not know. All I know is they are all nearby,"said Azzo. "The shades could not carry them far away."

"In that case, I shall endeavor to find them," said Dakro. "I found this one already, if it is indeed what you described."

"Oh, yes, Shaper," said Azzo. "That is it."

Dakro said, "Then I shall go to find the other three."

Dakro left, and continued into the power core. Only the largest and most important research centers had their own power stations, but Sucia Island had been one of th efew that received this level of support. Shaper experiments needed so much energy, usually stored in power spirals, charged in installations like this. It was incredibly dangerous and tiring work, which was the reason that such tasks were given to creations like serviles.

Dakro entered, finding the halls dark, steamy and hot. The magical energy made his skin itch, and he felt his stomach turn. The level of energy was unusual, and he felt sure it was unsafe. He noticed the old logs, once used by serviles to roll massive power spirals in and out, but that did not concern him, for he had no intention of moving such things himself.

He continued, finding a room filled with drained and damaged power spirals. Bright glowing lines criss-crossed the floor, and Dakro knew it should be safe to walk on those. He heard a loud, strange keening echoing through the hall.

'Must be the shades that Azzo mentioned,' thought Dakro.

Dakro spent much time fighting off shades, trying to keep his creations healed, but the energies of the place took two of his fyora and one of his searing artila. He came at last to the shade spawners. Devices for automatic making of creations without direct Shaper supervision was illegal, but it still existed. Dakro quickly moved about the room, turning off the power spirals. The power core was still dangerous due to the toxicity of the air, but at least he could safely continue his search.

Finding the last focusing crystal, Dakro decided it was time to leave before more damage was done, and he hurried from there to Mind Azzo.

Dakro placed his crystals into the holes at the base. As each one entered the slot, he noted Mind Azzo growing more alert.

"Thank you, Shaper. I am now restored. One moment," said Azzo, and it closed its eyes, and the nearby doors clicked. "I have deactivated the shade spawner inside. There will now be less chaos. I will begin repairs."

"That is all I require of you now," said Dakro.

"Yes, Shaper," said Azzo. "I will be here when you return. I hope."

Exhausted by these exertions, Dakro decided to return to Pentil, and regained his strength and energy, and re-created his forces that had been lost to the energy of the power core. The serviles were attentive to his needs, and Dakro enjoyed his rest. Finally, though, he decided he had delayed long enough, and he made his way north, and then east.

Here, he stared out over a wide, peaceful grassy plain. A broad, slow-moving river flowed through the plain, spanned by an ancient stone bridge.

 _'Ah, an oasis of peace,'_ thought Dakro, and then he saw the small figures moving around the bridge, and frowned. _'Humans. Must be the outsiders. They're on patrol, and so I must be on guard.'_

Despite being on guard, it soon happened that a guard spotted Dakro and his creations, and Dakro heard the sound of an alarm echo through the area before the fight was joined.

 _'These humans are seeming more puny to me,'_ Dakro thought after the fight was over. _'They could barely scratch me.'_

Then, he noticed what seemed to be a home in good repair, and he went there. As soon as he entered, he smelled the pools of essence and restoration, and had a moment to idly wonder who was responsible for maintaining these pools before he caught sight of a servile.

The servile seemed strangely unconcerned about the threats in the area, possessing a clean home, a nice garden, and an eerily serene demeanor. Dakro noted that the servile also did not seem particularly in awe of him.

"Welcome to my home. I am Dig," said the servile. "Please, feel free to use the restoration pools here, if you are in need."

"Do you maintain the pools, then?" said Dakro.

"Yes, I do. I have taken it as my purpose. We serviles feel best when we are doing a job," replied Dig. "So I feed and care for these pools. They are useful to passers-by."

"Who else has used the pools?" said Dakro.

"Well, the Sholai visitors used them at times, when they passed by," said Dig. "But then they sort of stop noticing that I was here. Their demeanor made me nervous."

"Aren't you nervous, living out here alone?" said Dakro.

"No, I am not. I have found that, if I am confident and serene enough, I am not noticed. Much has come from my beliefs," said Dig. "I have gained great strength from them."

"What do you believe?" said Dakro.

"I was once a Taker. I lived in Kazg. I belonged to a cult there, who believed that with pure meditation and strength of purpose, they could develop powers," said Dig. "I did well there. I mastered their techniques. But I found their hate of your kind to be self-defeating. It was a kind of madness. So I left and came here, to pursue my meditations in peace and to explore my new awareness."

"You do seem unusually calm and composed," said Dakro.

"Why should I not be? Should I collapse myself in awe, just because a Shaper has deigned to step inside my home?" said Dig.

"Frankly, yes. I am a Shaper," said Dakro. "You must obey me in all things."

"And yet, I will not. I do not hate your kind, Shaper," said Dig. "But I will not kowtow to you, either. Do what you must."

"And serviles must not practice magic of any sort. You are a rogue," said Dakro. "You must die."

"Oh," said Dig. "I did not expect this."

With the toss of one icy crystal, Dakro slew Dig before Dig could react. ' _I remember that cult, and it is most dangerous. Such a rogue could never have been permitted to live,'_ thought Dakro. _'When I have dealt with Trajkov, then maybe I will create a new servile to tend these pools.'_

He searched the ruined buildings, finding one sholai hiding, and Dakro and his creations made short work of the outsider. _'None shall live, they deserve death, trying to take Shaper secrets for themselves,'_ thought Dakro.

With that, he continued east, and noticed that the land was the same sort of waste that he had seen north of Kazg. As he walked down into a cold, dead valley, he could tell that something horrible had afflicted this area. All of the plants were dead, and all birds and animals had left or died. Tiny bones were in the dirt all around.

As Dakro continued on the path, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as he felt a cold presence. ' _Some malevolent force is here, watching me,'_ he thought. _'I have seen enough on this isle to know that such feelings are not mere imaginings.'_

Many sholai warriors ran at Dakro, and he slew them with little effort, but the cold presence was still there. He continued down the path, and saw a door, with a Shaper obelisk in front of it. Surprisingly, it was still perfectly legible: _Low Density Laboratory. PERMANENTLY SEALED! DO NOT ENTER!_

Dakro came closer to the door, and saw a single symbol carved repeatedly into the walls. He recognized it immediately-the symbol meant "sealed". Every Shaper laboratory had been built to be permanently sealed on short notice.

 _'If an experiment goes wrong and then escapes, the loss of life can be horrible. Every Shaper knows and accepts the risk that he or she could be buried alive if something goes too wrong,'_ thought Dakro. _'And here where things went so wrong that the whole isle was Barred, before that, something of that nature happened here. Going inside could be terribly risky ... but ... rewarding.'_

Opening the locks that held the levers which opened the doors, Dakro made his way into the entry hall. The sight that greeted him was morbid and unsurprising. There were bones jumbled everywhere. They were the remains of the people in here when the place was sealed. They had run to the exit, found they were trapped, and then were attacked by whatever horror was created. Everything now was perfectly still and quiet ... and dark. Someone had smashed all of the light crystals.

And then Dakro found he was under attack by the spirits of those entombed within. During a brief respite from the attacks, he found a bedroom, and within was a journal kept by what appeared to be one of the more important research assistants, named Demel. Dakro skimmed down to an interesting entry.

 _Zavor and Tek worry me more and more. First, it was the canisters. Even before they were fully tested, they had started to use them. Now they use them more and more. All we get go to them._

 _Then the mausoleum, and the new experiments. Little by little, I think that they don't think that the laws apply to them. I don't care how many canisters you use. Necromancy is forbidden to us, and for good reason._

 _I am sure of one thing. The moment things start to go wrong, I am through the doors. I won't die sealed in here with them._

The last entry had been dated a year before Sucia Isle was Barred. There was no mention of the Barring anywhere, so Dakro reasoned that his first guess had been correct-this place was sealed earlier. There was no indication whether the researcher Demel had succeeded in escaping before the sealing or not.

Dakro continued with his explorations, and came to another bedroom with a journal and he moved to read it, finding it had belonged to a head researcher named Zavor. The journal started out in a fairly dull manner, and Dakro skipped ahead, looking for interesting entries.

 _Power leads to power. The canisters open the mind farther and farther, and the openness leads to power. My openness leads to the lands beyond, beyond the vale._

 _The doubters. I will not share with them. I will pierce the one barrier the mighty Shapers cannot. The barrier of death. I will not die. What good is power, our mighty Geneforge, if it does not keep us from death?_

 _Soon, the final experiment will takeplace. Tek and I will join with the other side forever, and then they will see._

 _I have reserved one more canister for myself. I find, at times, my resolve wavers and fear seizes me. When I do, I augment myself, and it cures my doubts._

The door opposite the one that Dakro had entered stubbornly refused to open, and he could find nothing to make it do so.

Dakro continued his explorations, fighting off the spirits he encountered-shapers, guardians, and agents. Then he came to a place where several switches were, and not knowing what they were, he flipped them all and went back to a door that had refused to open. He felt rewarded when he returned to one of those doors and found it opened.

 _'This is very unusual. The research facility has an adjacent mausoleum? Shapers usually don't like to have the dead so close to their work, it can have unpredictable results,'_ thought Dakro.

As he stepped inside, he began to feel waves of involuntary panic-something terrible was back here. However, he also knew that Shapers were buried with tomes which described the secrets they learned in life, and the belief that he might learn useful things in here compelled Dakro forward.

He fought more specters of the residents, and finally the one he thought was referred to as Tek. The last guardian specter dropped an amazing dagger, and Dakro took it, though he much preferred the thorn baton. After studying at the tombs, he made his way to the last areas, finding two canisters and a number of specters-possibly the doubters that had been referred to in the journal.

Finally, he came to the core of the facility. Here, all the most powerful and dangerous shaping had taken place. The sole shaping pad was surrounded by a protective stone barrier. However, the chamber had been completely wrecked. The final experiment here unleashed amazing power, blasting everything around it.

As he came around, he found that there was a Shaper specter, guarded by four guardian specters upon the stone platform. As soon as this specter saw Dakro, it attacked.

After the fight, Dakro noticed a small ring had been dropped, and he seized it. Then he looked at the power spirals. _'If these are shut down, the dead will be able to rest,'_ he thought, and he went to go about that task.

Unable to shut the spirals down properly, Dakro compromised by sending his creations to the next room, dashing in and de-stabilizing one, running back away and waiting for the ensuing explosion. At last, the fourth and final power spiral was dead, and Dakro took his creations out of there. The icy wind had stilled, the feeling of a malevolent presence was gone.

Dakro continued around the road, finding the encampments of the outsiders, but nothing of particular interest within, and then he continued south. This valley was the most dead, diseased, unpleasant area he had seen anywhere on Sucia Island. There was absolutely nothing alive here, except for Dakro himself and his creations. The ground was covered with a fine dust, stirred up by the slightest breeze. Dakro felt slightly nauseated, even walking seemed difficult here.

The area was almost completely silent. Almost, but not quite, as Dakro occasionally heard a low, angry moan, though looking around gave him no idea where the noise had come from.

Just outside the workshop, there was a small office with a control panel. One crystal was set in the fungal pattern, and it was dark. The wooden controls, however, were dead-clearly the power had been cut, although Dakro knew the power source had to be close. The controls were labeled, but most were worn away, only one read "targeting all" but Dakro wasn't sure what that referred to.

Dakro stepped inside the workshop. Facilities like these were usually made to serve as support for research, to make and repair complex devices used by Shapers to build new, exciting creations. Something was wrong here, however. The foul, sickening atmosphere-strong outside-was near paralyzing inside.

 _'Workshops are normally safe, inoffensive places,'_ thought Dakro. _'What has happened here?'_

Continuing on, Dakro saw the reason why this area and quite possibly all the areas around were so barren and diseased. Involuntarily, he stepped back, overwhelmed by the horror.

 _'Shaper experiments tend to involve the production of a lot of poisonous and noxious substances, some of them alive. I know that-and those foul by-products are generally burned away using magic. It'd be horribly dangerous to do anything else. But when they abandoned Sucia, they must have had many on-going experiments, and didn't dispose of things properly ... just put them in metal drums and left them here, and now they're leaking,'_ thought Dakro. _'It's not a workshop anymore, it's a pit of poison! There must still be items of value here, but is it worth the risk of entering such a poisonous place?'_ Then Dakro remembered the power station and the core, and he steeled himself and went on. In the center of one room, there was a defense pylon.

 _'It doesn't look like an original part of the chamber. Probably added to protect the workshop from invaders in the Shapers' absence,'_ thought Dakro, as he noticed crystal fibers running into the ground from the base of the pylon. _'The power source isn't here, but probably close.'_

Soon, Dakro recognized the set-up for a servant mind's dwelling, and he went within the room. This servant mind was still alive, amazingly enough, however it was not well. Years of exposure to the poisons had left it perpetually ill and quite insane.

Seeing Dakro, it shrieked, "You! A Shaper! Servant of Corata! You will pay! I will kill you! Die!"

"You have made a mistake," said Dakro calmly, remembering the name Corata from his travels. "I am here to kill Corata."

Dakro's authoritative and calm tone cut through the creature's madness, and it stopped, and said, "I ... You ... You have stopped me. Now, Shaper, you will torment me again. My foolishness. Now you will hurt poor Mind Ramel."

"No," said Dakro. "I want to know how long have you been here?"

"So long. Awake so long. Trying to control the poison, trying to fix the leaks, but Corata doesn't let me. Foul shade Corata torments me. Corata wants the killing poison to leak away, so one can come in to help him," said Ramel. "But nobody comes. Nobody helps me. Nobody helps poor me."

"What treasures are stored here?" said Dakro.

"Shapers take much, but not all. Artifacts of value are here. And the control key. The research hall control key! Is hidden here!" said Ramel. "Oh, wait. Told not to say that. I am sorry."

"No, it is good that you told me," said Dakro. "Who is Corata?"

"Shade. Specter. Ghost of foul Shaper who came here to raid. He is dead, and he torments me. He wants a body, a return to life, and I cannot give it, so he torments me, he lashes out at me," said Ramel. "Oh, the pain. Oh, how I would give all the rest of my strength to reward any who could kill Corata. Kill, kill."

"Where is Corata now?" said Dakro.

"In the main storage complex," replied Ramel. "At the southwest corner."

"Good," said Dakro. "Now, any advice on how I might kill Corata?"

"Pylons. Pylons there. He ignores them. He has foolish times. He does not realize two power spirals needed to power pylons," said the mind. "Four rooms off Corata chamber. Storage rooms. Power spirals are in northwest and southeast corner rooms."

"Good, that is good," said Dakro. "I will return when the job is complete."

Dakro continued, and finally entered a massive hall, the largest in the whole complex. In the center, he saw a ghastly specter of a Shaper, kept in unending life by some powerful, horrible magic.

As Dakro entered the hall, it pointed a finger at him, and said, "I am Corata. One of the masters of Sucia Island! You are here now, Shaper, and I bid you to serve me. I need your help."

Stalling for time, Dakro replied, "Help? What sort of help do you want?"

The being intoned the story in flat, slurred tones. "I am one of the three masters of Sucia. When the isle was Barred, I snuck back. I came here with those loyal to me. We wanted the power here, the power of the Geneforge, for ourselves. But we needed the control rod. It was here. So we came here."

"And then what happened?" prompted Dakro.

"We made a mistake. We didn't think the poison here could affect us. We were wrong. It was much fresher and stronger then than it is now, before the worst of it leaked into the soil," replied Corata. "We didn't see how sick we were getting until we were in too far. Some of us escaped. The rest were warped, changed, held. I, the strongest of all, found the control rod, but was trapped in this horrible form. Those who escaped did not better. I made sure that they died. That was their penalty for leaving me!"

"And what do you want from me?" said Dakro, starting to feel bemused by this ghost.

"Save me! I can see you have great Shaper power in you! Use it to rebuild my body and restore me to life. End this imprisonment and maddening torment. Then I will give you anything you want!" said Corata.

 _'What he wants is impossible. No one can do what he asks-the creation of a Shaper body, filling it with an existing spirit. Even to a Shaper, dead is dead,'_ thought Dakro. _'But I must stall to get to those power spirals.'_

"Can you tell me why Sucia Isle was Barred?" said Dakro.

Corata's translucent form glowed red in fury. "The fools! They did not realize what we had done! We could re-write any being. Give it incredible power, in moments. You know how marvelous this is! I can see you have partaken heavily of the canisters yourself!" said Corata. "They thought that power should only be obtained with years of study and control. They wanted all of us to be chained to an eternal treadmill of unnecessary work. So, when we finally completed the Geneforge, they Barred the isle. Curse them!"

"What is the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"Our greatest creation! The cumulative synthesis of all we had achieved. One use of it could elevate a being to near-Godhood! The combined essence of all of our canisters in one simple device," said Corata. "I was going to use it. I would be the very first. Then they kept me from it, and trapped me here. They will pay, but first I need a new body!"

Seeing a possibility, Dakro said, "Let me think. I will go and try to find a way to make you a body."

"Fine, then. But stay out of my hall," said Corata. "If you are too nosy, I will destroy you. This is my kingdom!"

Dakro made for the northwest room first, and Corata's shade attacked. Ordering his creations to the task, Dakro continued in, powering up the spiral. He turned and was horrified to see the room was filled with more spectral agents and guardians, but he slipped past to the southeast corner, and powered up the other spiral. Moments later, Corata was once again dead.

Moving to explore the other rooms, Dakro found a ruined power spiral, and a case which was stuck when he tried to open it. He pulled hard, striking several sharp blows to open it, as the lock had rusted shut. Inside was a long, thin object wrapped in fur. The fur crumbled away at Dakro's touch, and he saw something rather like a key, mostly metal, with holes along the length, through which he could see something alive, pulsing gently.

' _I have only heard of such things! A neophyte like me ... or at least like me before I came to this isle ... would never be given one. It's a Control Rod. A safety device to control or deactivate every Shaper device in a given research facility ... this research facility!'_ thought Dakro, as he carefully packed it away.

With that, Dakro returned to the servant mind.

"It is done. Corata is dead," said Dakro. "I killed him, and he is gone forever."

"Then I am free. Free at last. I am weak and old, and I am over. Over at last. I am sorry I can serve no more, Shaper," said Ramel. "Peace. Sweet peace. Here is the rest of my life."

Before Dakro could say a word, the mind began concentrating, and he could nearly see the energy flowing from the servant mind to himself. When it was over, Ramel was not dead, but his mind was gone.

Knowing there was no longer a point in staying here, Dakro and his creations quickly left. They came to a broad plain, clearly diseased as invisible poisons leached up from the ground to the tops of the grasses and trees. A pervasive acrid stink was in the air, but at least it did not hurt as it had closer to the workshop. The crumbling roadway here had clear fresh tracks-booted feet, which meant, Dakro realized, that outsiders had been patrolling this road.

Seeing some buildings, Dakro headed there. The building he found was fairly intact, though the scavenging serviles had filled it with all sorts of trash, some repaired, some in the process of repair, and some gathering dust without having been used.

 _'Whoever lives here must not believe in ever throwing something away,'_ thought Dakro.

Soon, he came across a small, unwashed servile female with many rusty tools hanging from her belt. She seemed more comfortable with devices and machines than the living, though she did recognize a Shaper.

"Welcome to workshop, Shaper. I am Flig. Tinker Flig."

"You are a tinker all the way out here?" said Dakro.

"This is where all the stuff is. South, near the villages, everything good is picked away. Up here is where all the good scavenging is," said Flig. "Get the goods, take south to sell. Works well."

"What do you think of the Awakened and the Obeyers, and so on?" said Dakro.

"We don't. We respect Shapers. They make the great goods we repair. So Shapers are great," said Flig. "That's all we think about it."

 _'A truly proper servile ... what a novelty for Sucia,'_ thought Dakro. "What do you think about the outsiders?" he asked.

"The Sholai? They trade with us. Don't hurt us. Kill most rogues. So they're fine to us," said Flig. "We don't know what they are, or what they want, but they make lives happier."

 _'And the sholai are responsible for creating the rogues they save you from,'_ thought Dakro. _'Though that is too much reasoning for a servile.'_ "Can I trade with you?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't do business. Znaf does business, I fix. I know much about fixing. He trades," she said with a smile.

"Tell me about Znaf," said Dakro.

"He is my bonded. We here many years together. We raise children. Some live, and go south to trade there," said Flig. "Happy here, though sometimes there is choking and fear."

"Isn't it dangerous out here?" said Dakro.

"Sometimes Znaf and I feel sick, but we're here for long time, and sires and grandsires before us. We get used to sickness over many years," said Flig. "Or at least takes longer to kill us than did before."

"Where does the sickness come from?" said Dakro.

"Don't know, but have guess. Old Shaper workshop west of here, not far, called South Workshop filled with things. Slimes," said Flig. "Worst there, much choking and gasping. Even we don't scavenge there."

"What is the worst thing threatening you now?" said Dakro.

Flig frowned. "Sholai not all helpful. They make battle beta and gets wounded and runs off. It's hiding near here. They leave it be, and it scares us. Chases me and Znaf. One day it might kill us," she said, and looked cagey. "If you kill it, we have something to offer in trade. Good thing. It north of here, in glade. Look careful for hidden path, it take you there. Kill beta, and we help you."

As Dakro turned to leave, he saw another servile, left warn and ragged by years in this harsh environment, though he had made a good effort to remain neat and presentable. He bowed humbly to Dakro.

"Thank you, Shaper. Thank you for visiting our humble shop," said Znaf. "I am Znaf. Welcome. Welcome."

"Tell me about your shop," said Dakro.

"Well I live here with Flig. We scavenge and find the goods you Shapers generously left behind for us. We repair them and trade them to sholai and other serviles," said Znaf.

"What do you know about the Sholai?" said Dakro.

"We trade with them. We don't know from where they come or what they do," said Znaf. "We learn just a little of their tongue and trade things with them. It is not to serviles to know whether they are good or bad."

"Wait, you know their language?" said Dakro. "Can you teach me?"

"Why, Shaper, that is a wonderful idea. I would love to teach you. And for a small fee, I can do this," said Znaf. "I think one thousand coins is fair for my knowledge."

"That's ridiculous," said Dakro. "I am a Shaper. You should help me for free."

"And yet I won't," said Znaf, looking stubborn. "Many apologies."

"It is still a ridiculous fee for a few hours of your time. I will pay five hundred, and not a penny more," said Dakro, recognizing again the opening gambit for a servile who had learned the unusual practice of haggling.

Znaf was a reasonable servile who had expected some haggling, and being bright for a servile, he had picked up a great deal of the language which he then spent teaching Dakro vocabulary and syntax.

Leaving, Dakro found the wounded battle beta, and slew it, along with the sholai and some more of the bizarre servile cultists.

Returning to the shop, Dakro informed Flig that the beta was dead.

"Thank you, Shaper. Thank you. Lives better for me and bonded. You are kind to us," said Flig, and she left the room for a moment, and returned. "There is door back there," she said, pointing to a corridor to the south. "Would not open. Now will. Good things for you past it."

"Good," replied Dakro, and he went down the designated hallway, finding a canister and several other items that were quite useful.

"It has been a pleasure doing business with you," said Dakro, as he left the shop.

"Thank you, Shaper," said Flig. "Thank you for all you have done for us."

Dakro continued to the east, and entered a broad, almost peaceful dell. The ground rolled very smoothly, giving little concealment-this being a great pity, as Dakro noticed several patrols of sholai warriors. The foliage in the area seemed to be affected by some sort of pervasive illness, with the grass the wrong color and leaves withering. Watching attentively, Dakro noticed that the patrols were primarily to the north and west, but seemed to be keeping away from the southeast.

Dakro started edging south, but quickly met up with a patrol. However, he and his creations made short work of the sholai before they could send up a general alarm, and he made his way on to the southeast. Here, he saw a number of the pylons of his ancestors. The air was chilly here, and Dakro had the strange sensation of being watched. There were no tracks.

 _'They stay away because they believe it haunted,'_ thought Dakro. _'It could well be, but I think I will strike from here until I have removed all the patrols.'_

Sure enough, as Dakro moved into the area, two specters attacked him, but they were weak things, quickly slain.

He then moved to look at the pylons more carefully. Markings ran up and down the length, looking rather like thin humanoids or skeletons. _'Could be a grave marker,'_ he thought. Finding a compartment spring open at his touch, he took several featureless gold disks and an ivory ring that remained when the leather containing them disintegrated.

Moving around carefully, he managed to lure another patrol into an ambush, and then slew another. He killed a sholai merchant, and looted the shop before finding what was apparently a headquarters, and killed the sholai within quickly. As Dakro began looting this building, he came across the journal of Gayev, the commander, written in the sholai tongue. Dakro spent some time reading it, improving his knowledge of the language.

Continuing on his trek to the east, Dakro came to the arena. He had never been in a Shaper arena before, as creation sport combat had been illegal for well over a century. Even if it were not infested with rogues, it would be rather unsettling.

 _'Today shapers feel some moral responsibility to their creations. That wasn't always the case. Shapers made creations merely to fight against each other for sport. They traded recipes and pitted their pets against each other in bloody combat, that's what Simrat told me,'_ thought Dakro. _'Today, creations only fight each other in legitimate wars. Or I suppose there are still illegal, underground fighting pits, but this is the sort of place that belongs to the dark past.'_

Just northeast of the arena, there was a battle beta, standing at a cave entrance. Dakro realized he was going to fight it, and steeled himself for the combat when the beta suddenly turned, and silently walked back into its cave, head bowed.

 _'Odd. I must go see what that is about,'_ thought Dakro.

Dakro followed, and saw the battle beta, towering over him. These creations were designed to lead the way into battle, to crash enemy lines. Clearly in peak physical condition, its face bore an expression of doubt and confusion, looking upset.

"Oh, Shaper. Greetings. I Prav. I ... I ..." said the beta. "What should I do?"

"Where did you come from?" said Dakro. "Who created you?"

"I was frozen in mine. I was woken by mind. I was told slay all who come. But no Shapers. I have doubts," said Prav. "I look for Shapers to guide me. None. I come here and wait."

"What sort of doubts did you have?" said Dakro.

"I am made to kill. I will kill. But who to kill? Not those wanted by Shapers. Kill those bad to Shapers. Who are bad? Who are good? I do not know. I want to kill," said Prav. "I do not want to kill."

'His brain has been damaged by being frozen,' thought Dakro. 'This level of introspection is not normal for a battle creature. It's undesirable, too.'

"What is in this area?" said Dakro.

"Rogues. Many rogues," said Prav. "I fear them. They want to slay me, but I do not know if I must slay them. So I run here. I stay here."

"I require your assistance," said Dakro. "Come and help me."

"I do not know, Shaper," said Prav. "I want to kill. I do not want to kill. I do not know if helping you is right thing. I will kill. I should not kill."

"I assure you, you will be fighting the enemies of the Shapers. Come and assist me," said Dakro.

"I ... I ..." said Prav, shaking its head, seeming afflicted with some sort of apathy, looking more miserable than before.

Raising his voice, Dakro said, "Enough moping, Battle Beta! Attention! Come with me!"

Finally, although Prav still looked miserable, he moved forward at Dakro's command. Together, they cleared the arena of rogues, but when Dakro moved to leave the area, Prav miserably went back to his cave, as Dakro contemplated whether this rogue should be allowed to live or whether he miight yet bend the creature to his will.


	14. Chapter 13

Apologies for the delays. My daughter developed appendicitis-fortunately I got her to the hospital before it burst, and she's doing well. It just really got me off my routine by quite a bit and now I'm almost caught up with things. Please enjoy, and all reviews are greatly appreciated.

* * *

Dakro looked at the western end of the mines, and shook his head _This is beyond me, for now_. Remembering that there was the other workshop to explore, Dakro retraced his steps through the arena, back to the road untaken, leading north from the sealed lab. At least when he passed through there, he did not note the icy winds, suggesting that at least one problem of Sucia Isle had been definitively put to rest.

Turning north, the weather changed with an alarming suddenness, as though he had walked into a wall of cold. The sun still shone, but it had no heating effect on this frigid valley.

 _'Powerful magic is at work here, and I don't know why,'_ thought Dakro as he wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his robes closer, trying to stay warm _._

He continued, fighting past vlish and plated clawbugs, until he reached the center, filled with spawners, and he slew the spawners. Finally, he found a box, left behind by whoever had created the deadly gauntlet of spawners. Inside were frozen, broken tools, used up pods, and a pouch containing an icy cold iron key. Dakro wiped off the frost and put it in his pack.

Searching through, he found one room filled with some serviles who had frozen to death. One had a scroll clenched to his chest, and Dakro carefully slid it out, unrolled it and read it.

 _To who reads this, avoid our mistake. When rogues came, we fled here. Thought there was peace. Hid in ruin here. Then outsiders came, and did their workings. Did not know we hid here, or knew and did not care. Thought they would go and we would be safe._

 _But they left the rogues here. Then next day, the cold started. So cold. Could not go out. Rogues everywhere. So we stayed and got more and more cold. No hope left. If you read this, you must run! Run! Get away while still safe!_

He found two doors which refused to open to him, and then took the key and unlocked the chains holding the lever that led to the west workshop.

The blast of freezing air shocked Dakro, even after having read the warning of the frozen serviles. The moment he stepped inside, he started shivering-it was far colder than the valley he had just left. A nearby crystal container, sheathed in ice, said that this was a cold storage. Shapers had developed powerful magical techniques for making things extremely cold, and that was the purpose of this place-but cold storage wasn't supposed to be this cold.

 _'Something has gone wrong,'_ thought Dakro _. "That's the only explanation for such painful cold.'_ He looked at the long-dead firepits, and knew that even if they were burning, they wouldn't be enough to protect him from the dangerous cold.

Circling the outer edge of the place, he found the room of the servant mind in control of the workshop. The servant mind was still alive, apparently bred specifically to withstand cold. However, this cold had been cruel to it, and it was covered with frost, and seemed barely able to think.

"Shaper ... I ... cold... Cold. I ... cold," said the mind.

"I need your assistance, mind," said Dakro.

"I ... cold ... cold," it said.

"I need you to turn off the cold," said Dakro.

"Cold ... cold. So cold ... cold," said the mind.

 _'I will have to look elsewhere to solve the matter,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Maybe there are power spirals nearby powering the cold, and then I'll be able to get more help from the servant mind if I cut that.'_

Resolutely leaving the servant mind behind, he headed for the center of the building, hoping to find the cold source there. At last, he reached the central chamber of the workshop. This was where the magical engine producing the overpowering cold was located. There was a ring of power spirals outside the device, pumping magical energy into the stone circle in the middle, which in turn chilled the stone pillars. The pillars were so cold that they sucked the warmth from anything nearby. Two power spirals had already exploded while the others were apparently just able to keep up with the demand.

 _'It will get worse,'_ thought Dakro _. 'But with luck, it will then get better.'_

Racing against death by cold, Dakro moved from one power spiral to the next, cutting the power, his fingers growing numb even within the gloves he wore.

Finally, he had completely cut off the power to the cold-generating device. Immediately, he felt an improvement, as the stones were still incredibly cold, but now the area was only icy, as opposed to the cold which had been death-defying risky.

With that, he returned to the servant mind, pausing to slay yet another cyrodrayk on the way.

"Shaper, I am Mind Stree," it said, seeming to be recovered from the absolute chill. "I am eager to serve you."

"Why was it so cold in here?" asked Dakro.

"I made it so. The humans, the outsider, they came in and looted and it scared me," said Stree. "I made guardians, and I made it cold, so cold they fled. But then I was cold. So cold."

"What guardians?" said Dakro, hoping that it wasn't the cyrodrayks.

"The drayks. I woke them up. But they were smart, and wouldn't listen to me. But as long as they were here to protect, it was all right," said Stree. "If any are rogue now, I am sure they will obey a Shaper right away!"

 _'I sincerely doubt that,'_ thought Dakro. "What is left in the workshop?" he asked.

"Very little. All of value was taken. Corata left some things. He wanted me to protect them," said Stree. "But the rest of value was mostly hauled out."

"Who was Corata?" asked Dakro, wondering what perspective the mind had.

"One of the greatest, wisest Shapers on the island. He controlled the supplies. I answered to him. He was sure he would be returning soon, and wanted supplies left for him," said Stree. "He never came, though. I am sad."

"Can I have the supplies Corata left?" asked Dakro.

"Oh, I couldn't lower the defenses for you, Shaper," said Stree. "That would be wrong. Corata told me those things were only for him."

"Corata is long dead, and I am here," said Dakro. "As a Shaper, I command you to let me have those supplies."

"I ... I ... I am sorry, Shaper. You are right, of course," said Stree. It closed its eyes for a moment, and then said, "You will find it easier to get those items now."

"What do you know about why the island was abandoned?" asked Dakro.

"Oh, I am not told things like that. I just keep track of vats and goo and such," replied Stree. "I don't know anything about politics. I am just a humble and chilly servant mind."

"Very well, that's all I need," said Dakro.

"Yes, Shaper," said Stree. "Thank you, Shaper."

Dakro left, deciding that he would search the workshop more thoroughly now that he wasn't in danger of imminent death by freezing, and so he began going from room to room. In one, he found the floor panels heated to uncomfortable levels, but he made his way across and looked inside the box.

 _'Well worth it,'_ thought Dakro. There had only been one thing inside the small box, carefully placed on a small pillow of velvet-it was a foot long, and carefully carved from ebony. Dakro recognized it immediately as an entry baton. He had seen them before, but never actually held one. They were both a key and a badge of honor, used to gain access to secure areas. Dakro picked it up, carefully wiped away the dust, and hung it from his belt.

 _'It feels strange ... but right,'_ thought Dakro _. 'And I am sure the thing will be useful.'_

He stepped out of the protected storeroom, proudly bearing his baton, and stopped short, seeing something that had not been there when he had entered the room. It was a shade-a sort of creation, a short-lived ephemeral being of humanoid shape, used to send messages. _'Those are difficult to make. Only an extremely skilled Shaper could do that,'_ thought Dakro.

It said, "Hello, Shaper. I am an emissary of Trajkov. You should speak with me right now. To not do so is to invite ugly, quick death."

"Who is Trajkov?" said Dakro, though he knew full well.

"Trajkov is the leader of the Sholai on this island. He is a master of battle, and now, of shaping," said the shade.

 _'If he truly created this shade, then he must be quite skilled. Maybe Goettsch did it before their falling out ... but I doubt it,'_ thought Dakro.

The shade continued, "He is the one who brought you here. And he still hopes he can deal with you."

"He brought me here?" said Dakro, fighting anger.

"Yes," replied the shade. "He sent the ship to kill your transport. He wanted your help. He wants to deal with you."

"And **if** I want to deal with him," said Dakro, "how might I do that?"

"Go to Kazg. Prove your sincerity to Gnorrel and ally with the Takers. Then, you will be given entry to the chambers of Trajkov. He offers you power," said the shade. "Incredible power, in return for your assistance."

"It is about time he contacted me," said Dakro. "I would like very much to deal with him."

"He senses this," said the shade, "and he eagerly awaits your finding your way to him."

"What do you want from me?" said Dakro.

"You have obtained an item. Trajkov does not want you to have it. He sends a message," said the shade. "You must break the baton you have found. Destroy it now. Otherwise the Sholai that are even now waiting outside will rush in and destroy you."

 _'Hmm... Trajkov doesn't want me to have this ... I suppose it means I really should keep it,'_ thought Dakro _. 'But surprise may be a better thing ... I shall pretend to break it.'_ He said, "Fine, I will destroy it."

Dakro took a bit from one end, making an impressive cracking sound, although the baton was, functionally, yet intact.

"I am a lesser creation, but such trickery will not fool me," said the shade. "You have not broken the baton."

"Fine," said Dakro. "Then I won't."

"He is sad to hear it. That means he will have to kill you," said the shade. "Be ready, Shaper. We are coming. Soon, I will dissolve."

"Whatever," said Dakro, and he turned to continue his explorations of the workshop. He had not gone much further when sholai started to attack from both sides of the hallway he was in. Caught in the middle, he turned some creations one way, the others another.

"Be careful who you threaten to kill," he said to one of the dead Sholai. "I am a Shaper, and even if Trajkov has stolen some Shaping arts, he will never be a Shaper."

He finished gathering all the useful items in the workshop, and left for the icy valley, and decided to try the entry baton on those doors that had been stubborn before. Whether it was the baton, or that the doors had been barred from the inside in some manner, they opened at his approach now, and he saw that they had been the hiding places of the sholai, probably the very groups which had attacked him.

He headed north, then, back into the wastelands which were more familiar than the bitterly cold areas. There were battle alphas on guard here, which immediately attacked, and then he saw an obelisk bearing the legend, "Crisis Region. For supplies and instructions, report to Kantre. For assistance, report to Health and Holding."

As he was under attack by battle alphas and glaahks, a servile walked up to him. This one wasn't like the others on the island, it looked innocent, obedient, dumb. Much closer to what Dakro was used to. _'Must be a fresh creation,'_ thought Dakro. _'Body of adult, mind of child.'_

The servile smiled and poked the ground nervously with a toe before saying, "I am Fwee. Welcome to the Realm of Kantre, Shaper. I am honored to see you. Now leave, or you will be slain."

"Why does everything here want to kill me?" said Dakro.

"Because Kantre wills it. It protects these valleys from all infections, because it is the time of crisis," said Fwee. "Kantre is made to do great things in the time of crisis."

Dakro looked around, thinking that these wastes suggested Kantre wasn't doing that well at protecting from infections, and said, "I would prefer not to be attacked. Is this possible?"

"No, because Kantre wills it. Kantre is charged by the great Danette to protect these sacred vales in the time of crisis, which he has done for all known time," said Fwee. "Kantre is afraid you bring impurity, and he is charged to deal with you, and he wills it."

"Danette?" said Dakro, "I know of Danette. She sent me here to speak with Kantre."

"Oh. Well, that is not important. I am sure that the will of Kantre will be a harsh ..." said Fwee, and he stopped speaking, his head tilted to one side, and there was a long pause. Finally, he spoke again, "Kantre wills that you shall speak with him. It is a surprising honor. The creations will not attack you until you can answer to Kantre. It is his will."

"Tell me about Kantre," said Dakro.

"Kantre is very wise. Kantre was placed here to act in a time of crisis," said Fwee. "Then the time of crisis happened. Kantre was stern and wise, and brought about his will."

"What is the time of crisis?" asked Dakro.

"It was said that there might come a time when the great research halls would have a crisis, and poisons would flow forth, and rogues would claim all of everything," said Fwee. "In this event, this dominion was created, and Kantre was given mastery over it, to provide protection and succor to the hurt and dissolving."

Dakro dismissed Fwee, and made his way to the servant mind. Mind Kantre, servant mind and controller of this area, had watery eyes, and one look told Dakro that isolation had driven it thoroughly mad. It smiled at Dakro and twitched.

"Shaper, you come to my dominion. It is the time of crisis. I am charged by Danette to protect the ... the ... protect. I see you as a thing of infection," said Kantre. "Explain yourself, or I destroy you."

"Danette sent me to check on you," said Dakro, lying glibly. "Do not attack."

Kantre looked at Dakro, doubtful. Dakro stared back. Something in his voice seemed to convince the insane mind.

"I cannot slay you, not if you are my creator," said Kantre. "Tell me, what are my new instructions?"

"Continue doing what you have been doing," said Dakro. "You are doing well. However, I-and I alone-need to pass safely."

Kantre smiled, and said, "Thank you. I am glad. I am glad my service and my will have been good. You may pass through here safely. Oh, I forgot. You will need a key." With a withered hand, it pointed at the cabinet. "And I also have the items you wanted me to store." There was a click from the door to the east.

"That is all I need from you," said Dakro.

Dakro left, heading east. Across the rocky valley to the northeast, looming above the natural stone outcroppings, Dakro saw a huge building. He knew this was a Shaper-built structure, and it looked like an entryway.

 _'This is an entrance to the main research hall on Sucia. Surely the answers to all my questions are here. In addition to great power,'_ thought Dakro _._

At first the valley seemed empty, and then he saw a fast, blurry motion for a moment. Dakro was reminded of his time in Diarazad. Several times, he came under attack, and the sholai ran from sight, but with the acid covering, Dakro heard their dying screams in the distance, even though he didn't see them fall.

Finally, Dakro reached the Shaper building, although he saw much evidence of outsider encampment here. He saw an old Shaper log book, and evidence the Sholai had been reading and re-reading. Dakro paged through, and noted one entry at the end.

 _Commander Frell was relieved of his entry baton. He was put out to not have been told where it was stored. He was informed that locations of all key access items were recorded in Kazg, and only Kazg._

 _'Well, that certainly explains their desire to ally with the serviles of Kazg,'_ thought Dakro _. "And perhaps that entry baton is the one I found."_

Continuing, he saw a lone stone gate blocking his way into the research halls. There was no lever or other control, but he did note a small control panel nearby. Believing it functional, Dakro went over to it. It was a small, living control panel-a sturdy and elegant contraption of Shaper make, made of wood, fungus, and stone. Luckily, the sholai had not destroyed it, perhaps because they did not know what it was. None of the switches were functioning, but the slot looked interesting to Dakro.

Dakro made a brief effort to fix the switches, but the age and neglect was too great. Then he inserted the entry baton into the slot, and found it a perfect fit. From the east wall, he heard a metallic, grinding sound, and none of the other switches on the panel became active, nor did anything else seem to happen.

However, when he stepped over to the door, it opened at his approach. He entered the vat region of the research halls. Shaper work always required a large quantity of chemicals, and required a safe place to mix and store them for some were neutral, while others were quite noxious. These tunnels were such a place. However, when Sucia was abandoned, the people here did not have time to properly clean out the area. The vats had been left to rot-the result was simple and unpleasant. The air was hazy and heavy with foul substances. Dakro found it difficult to see and struggled to avoid choking.

In the distance, he could hear strange, alien gurgling noises, and the sounds of clawed feet against stone. He came down the hallway, and found the area marked 'vat control'. The room was full of large Shaper control panels, but they were delicate with shorter life spans than other control panels, and they were now inert and useless.

He continued until he found the servant mind. Dakro was amazed to find it still alive, but it had been created with filtered nostrils and a thick skin to protect it from such a harsh environment.

The mind looked quite pleased to see a Shaper, and said, "At last, at last I can get instruction. Thank you for coming at last. I am Mind Karalta. Things have been very difficult."

"What difficulties have you had?" asked Dakro.

"The outsiders! Intruders! They came, outsiders, picking through your secrets! There were minds placed here to deal with such intrusions. They destroyed them! Or, those that were still active, anyway," said Karalta. "Poor me. Poor, weak me. I did all I could. I did what defending I could, but my abilities were weak."

"What defenses did you make?" asked Dakro.

"I turned the power spirals back on. And I heated the frozen substances, and burned them, making noxious gasses. And I made defenders, though they soon went rogue. And I made mines," said Karalta. "I was very thorough."

"Now that I am here, can you clean the air?" said Dakro. "I have come to destroy the outsiders."

"Now that you are here, it is safe. I can start to pump the poison gas out of the air," said Karalta, and Dakro could hear the starting sounds of distant fans.

"Good," said Dakro. "Can you deactivate the mines?"

"Now that you are here, it is safe," said Karalta. "It will take some time, but I will deactivate the mines. It will be safe for you later." There was another sound as control spores were released throughout the area.

"Can you shut off the power?" asked Dakro.

"Now that you are here, it is safe," said Karalta. "I can turn off the spirals which are heating the chemicals." There was a distant clang.

"By any chance, can you get the rogues to stop attacking me?" asked Dakro.

"Now that you are here, it would be safe. But it is beyond my power," said Karalta. "Glaahk minds are too strong for me to control. I am sorry, Shaper. You will have to deactivate them yourself."

"Tell me more about these halls," said Dakro.

The mind looked confused, and Karalta said, "The great research halls of Sucia Island? Home of the greatest minds of your people? What can you not know?"

"Why was this island abandoned?" said Dakro.

"Well, when Danette came to give me final instructions, he said that the power here was deemed unsafe and unstable. He said that it worried the council and it worried him," said Karalta. "But I don't think he was talking to me. Just himself. But I still heard. He did tell me, though, that when the Shapers returned, if he wasn't among them, they should see his shade."

"Who was Danette?" said Dakro.

"How can you not know of one of his fame and intelligence?" said Karalta. "He was the head of research here."

"Much has changed over the years," said Dakro. "Where is his shade?"

"He said he left it in the holding cells area, in a secured location," replied Karalta.

"What do you know about the outsiders?" asked Dakro.

"Only that when they came here, I could kill them very quickly," replied Karalta. "They soon stopped coming."

"What is the layout of these halls?" asked Dakro.

"Well, just east of here is the main research center. North of that is the holding cells. East of that is the quarters. And east of the holding cells and north of the quarters is the Geneforge," said Karalta. "Be careful in the holding cells, though. I know that it is full of rogues. It has been for years. Even the intruders couldn't clear it out."

"What can you tell me about the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"I can tell you what chemicals went into it, but I don't know what it does. All I know is that it is like a huge, more powerful version of the learning canisters we made here. Much, much more powerful," said Karalta. "Oh, we had a time making the ingredients for it. The stories I could tell."

"How might I use the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"I don't know," said Karalta. "I don't know anything about its power, or how to tap it."

"That's all for now, then," said Dakro. "You have done well considering the difficulties."

"Thank you, Shaper," said Karalta.

Dakro continued, feeling there was no need to linger here, and he entered the central labs. Shaper research halls had always been built with the actual labs just inside the entrance. It was an old tradition, born of the realization that visitors always wanted to see new discoveries right away and worry about minor details such as food and sleep later. Though inactive for centuries, the labs were now operating at full speed.

 _'They're being run by those invaders. Outsiders,'_ thought Dakro as he smelled the essence in the air. _'They are learning my secrets!'_

Dakro looked around to get his bearings. The main lab complex was to the south, full of large alcoves, each home to some busy intruder's experiment. The chamber to the north, on the other hand was unused except as a garbage dump. For whatever reason, the Sholai were shying away from there.

Turning south, Dakro began slaying outsiders, killing them too soon for the individuals to sound an alarm. Searching through, he came to chambers dug out of solid rock and normally well-defended where the most difficult and experimental shapings had once taken place. Dakro smelled decay and something else-someone had recently been active in this place.

Dakro rounded the corner, fighting off a strengthened battle beta, and then went further, finding the corpse of a sholai mage. The Sholai mage had been careless, far more careless than a Shaper would have ever been. He had tried to make a new sort of creation without any armed support, and death had been his reward.

Looking closer, Dakro noticed a tattoo on the dead man's arm. He looked closer, and saw a deep tan, numerous scars, a brass earring, and multiple tattoos with nautical things.

 _'This so-called powerful wizard, dabbler in our sacred secrets was nothing but a sailor! The powers in this place gave him incredible power overnight without control or training,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Fascinating ... and dangerous.'_

Dakro continued moving from alcove to alcove, slaying sholai. Finally he came to the laboratory which was one-possibly the only-place where the augmentation canisters were made. Crystal tubes were carefully shaped, filled with hot, charged, living material, and magically sealed. The sholai, Dakro could tell, had been busily, desperately even, working to figure out how to make more of the canisters.

 _'And all for naught,'_ thought Dakro _. 'Their feverish work has not yet been successful, and after I slay them all, they shall never succeed.'_

He continued, finding no more sholai for the moment, but he did find an old Shaper journal that had recently been dusted off to be studied by the sholai.

 _In years past, Shaping only was done when a being was created. For humane reasons, living creatures were never shaped. The results were too unpredictable and dangerous._

 _Now, with knowledge of the gene and of the precise place where the instructions of life are stored, we are able, at last, to remake already living beings. It is not possible to give knowledge. That can only be gained with hard experience. But we can change the body, using our magic and craft to write into the gene new abilities, and hone the abilities already there._

 _Of course, care must be taken to ensure that our powers and secrets remain ours alone. If mere outsiders were able to obtain our powers in an instant, where would we be?_

Dakro read the journal entry, and said, "We would be where we are now. It has fallen to me to ensure that our powers and secrets do not fall to the outsiders, and I shall do what I must."

He came into another room with what looked like shaping pads, but were not, with peculiar devices. On one, there was a body, a tube pointing at it from a control panel, and an eyepiece. Curious, Dakro looked through the eyepiece.

Dakro looked through the eyepiece and saw a blur. Fiddling with the knobs and buttons on the panel, something astonishing happened. His view zoomed in on the servile's hand. Then it moved closer, and he saw tiny details of the skin, and then it moved in further. Dakro stood watching, stunned, as the tiniest, most imperceptible details became clear to him. Then he saw it ... like a pair of scrolls, amazingly long, spiraling into darkness. The scrolls were twisted around each other, but seemed to be a long message of an alphabet containing only four letters. Concentrating on one section, Dakro changed one of the letters, then another.

 _'If I wanted to ... and had the time, I could completely inspect and re-write the scrolls in the servile,'_ thought Dakro, and he stepped away, feeling dizzy _. 'That was strange and marvelous, but I've never heard anything of it before. Why hadn't the Shapers taught me about it? What else have they kept from me?'_


	15. Chapter 14

Still reeling from the entry in the journal and the things he had seen in the servile's body, Dakro made his way into the quarters which had been occupied by the sholai. Slaying them was becoming less satisfying, but more and more, he wanted to see the island rid of the invaders.

He came at last to the chambers which had once been Danette's, and now Trajkov had claimed them. Inside a cabinet well defended by reaper turrets, Dakro found a pair of gloves, heavily torn. He almost closed the case when he realized they had been shaped.

Dakro picked up the gloves and inspected them. They were research gloves, designed not just to protect, but to be a power conduit, ready to channel energy into and out of the user. They were also incredibly well-made, but beyond repair. However, Dakro could not bring himself to just leave them in a dusty cabinet, and so he took them.

In the next room, he found personal effects, the random debirs of a life at sea, and then he found something under a salt-encrusted wool cloak. Dakro picked it up-an entry baton, identical to the one he owned. He thought briefly about breaking this one, but just left it alone.

Then Dakro's eyes fell on Trajkov's journal. It was surprisingly short, and Dakro opened it to begin reading. Trajkov had a large vocabulary, twisted syntax, and bad handwriting, all of which made it difficult to read, but Dakro managed to decipher one very interesting bit.

 _Goettsch had fled, and he took the gauntlets with him. Plans to lure another Shaper here have begun, but they will take time. I am furious. Now I not only need guidance and assistance, but I need to regain the gloves._

 _The other gloves, the ones I still have, are too damaged, I think. Goettsch already said they could not be repaired, but he may be wrong. He was clear on one point, though. Only with the gloves may the power of the Geneforge be drawn._

 _I will succeed. I will gain the power. And Goettsch will be the first to pay. If I do not kill him, one of my agents will._

 _'I am not Trajkov's agent, but I have already slain Goettsch,'_ thought Dakro. ' _And I'm not sorry. Goettsch wouldn't have done anything for me. I don't think Trajkov would either, even if I had been inclined to help him. Utter insanity, to think that a true Shaper would deign to let an outsider partake so heavily of my secrets and live!'_

Dakro left, continuing to slay the sholai he met.

He came into a ruined section of the quarters, smashed and hollowed out by reptilian fire and massive claws. In the middle of the rubble, he saw a massive, ancient drayk, possibly as old as this complex. When the drayk saw him, it said, "Come closer. Let us speak, but do not trifle with my nest, or I must defend my honor."

Surprised to not have someone or something trying to kill him in this place, Dakro came closer to the drayk. The drayk was ancient, its skin faded and cracked, wings torn. Its eyes were alert, and joints supple, but it was easily old enough to have known the Shapers before they left.

When it saw Dakro, it nodded its head in a slight gesture of respect. "Ah, a Shaper. Yessss," said Dakro. "It hasssss been long. Yessss. I am Akkat. I greet you in peace, as long as you do not trifle with my nessst."

"Greetings, creation," said Dakro. "I require your assistance."

Akkat chuckled, and Dakro noted no traces of obedience in its eyes. "Shaper, your kind lost my respect when you fled this isle. You abandoned me. I see no reason to follow you," said Akkat. "I am not one of the pitiful sub-drayks you see here."

"What did you mean by pitiful sub-drayk?" said Dakro.

"The Sholai, they make drayks. They are around. But I am an original, ancient and learned, made by a master Shaper, with my own will. Do not confuse me with them," said Akkat.

"Tell me about this complex, then," said Dakro.

"There is not much you have not seen. To the north isss the Geneforge. Wessst of there are the holding cellssss, full of roguesss. To the wessst, passst ressearch, are the vatssss, full of poissson."

"What do you know of the Geneforge?" asked Dakro.

"Little. The Shaperssss, they trussted me little, though they made me from nothing," said Akkat. "They told me naught of the Geneforge, for fear I might accesssss it in their absence."

"What is your job here?" said Dakro.

"I was set by your kind to guard this place. I lossst interessst. I breed at timessss, and ssset my sssspawn to find homessss on the isle," replied Akkat. "And of late, I trade knowledge with the Sholai."

"Who created you?" asked Dakro.

"I was made by Danette herself, master researcher of this island," said Akkat.

"And you have assisted the outsiders?" said Dakro, feeling fury rise again.

"Sssome, yessss," replied Akkat. "I wassss bored, and their ssstrugglessss interesssted me."

"And you are a rogue!" said Dakro. "I will end your ungrateful existence."

Akkat spread its shredded wings, and declared, "No! It is I who will devour you!"

The fight was over quickly, Akkat barely able to scratch Dakro or his creations, though the shredded wings proved to be yet sufficient to take Akkat to the air, beyond Dakro's reach. Dakro started sifting through Akkat's nest in the absence of the drayk.

 _'Nothing really worthwhile for the taking here,'_ decided Dakro. _'At least the beast reminded me that I cannot go into the Geneforge yet, for I must find that shade of Danette to speak with it. Perhaps it will be more sane than the form in the crypt.'_

Confident that he had slain all the sholai dwelling in Shaper quarters, Dakro returned to the central lab so that he could head into the holding cells.

Shaper researchers had always had extremely high storage needs. When they were trying to shape a new sort of creature or modify an old one, it took time to see whether their efforts were successful. It wasn't enough for the altered creature to not go rogue or die immediately-it had to be observed for some time to ensure that the changes made did not cause long-term difficulties. This unpleasant job took place in networks of cells like the one Dakro now entered. Here, hard working serviles and Guardians would take the experiments, hold them in cells, and observe them carefully.

 _'Of course, if the creatures got loose and interbred, it could cause real problems,'_ thought Dakro. _'But that sort of thing could only happen in the unlikely event of the facility being abandoned for a few centuries ... just like this one.'_

Dakro opened a door and went into a narrow tunnel. A blast of heat hit him. He recognized it-a hot, dry access shaft. Small shafts ran through the walls and ceiling, delivering warm, fresh air to the rest of the complex.

 _'It is amazing that all of this is still working. It's a testament to the quality of Shaper design and industriousness of the servant minds who maintain the equipment,'_ thought Dakro. _'But that doesn't make it any less a dangerous place in which to wander around.'_

Finding heated floor panels, Dakro left his creations behind as he began exploring, and finally, he found a room where there stood a shade-an insubstantial sub-life form made by a Shaper to gather information or explore dangerous areas. They were held together more by magic than biological processes, and Dakro knew they were very difficult to make.

This shade said, "You are a Shaper. I can speak with you. I am a shade made by Danette. I was made to give information about this complex to explorers."

"What can you tell me about the Sholai?" said Dakro.

"I am sorry. I am basically a recording of Danette's instructions," said the shade. "I cannot provide analysis of events which have taken place since my creation."

"Who was Danette?" said Dakro.

"Danette was one of the three Shapers in charge of this island. She was the director of research. Corata was in charge of supplies, power, and equipment. Defniel operated the school and took care of other administrative duties," said the shade. "Danette wishes it to be known that she was the true genius and author of Sucia Island's greatness."

"So why was the island Barred?" said Dakro.

"Our skill at Shaping had grown to the point where any person could, in an instant, gain incredible power. We could rewrite the very instructions of life, remaking people to give them incredible powers of magic," said the shade. "Danette said that this made the Shaper council afraid. They felt that this power could never truly be controlled. They were so paranoid that they even thought outsiders could steal our powers."

"Well, didn't outsiders eventually use this island to gain our powers?" said Dakro.

"I am sorry," repeated the shade. "I cannot provide analysis of events which have taken place since my creation."

"So, what happened to them, then?" said Dakro.

"I am sorry," repeated the shade. "I cannot provide analysis of events which have taken place since my creation."

"OK, so what is it that you're to tell me?" said Dakro, feeling frustration rising-all the more so as the creature's incorporeal nature left killing it as an impossibility.

"Danette knew that, whether or not Sucia Island was unBarred, someone would eventually return to interact with the Geneforge," said the shade. "The Geneforge was operational when Danette left, and was expected to remain so for many years."

"What should I know about the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"It should not be destroyed. It is an incredible invention. Its power must be carefully controlled," said the shade, "but its power guarantees that Shapers will ever hold dominion over the lesser people of this world."

"What would the Geneforge do to someone who used it?" said Dakro.

"It would rewrite their genes," said the shade. "They would become a new, glorious sort of life."

"How could I use the Geneforge?" said Dakro.

"You should not, without the explicit permission of the Shaper council. The power you get will be overpowering," said the shade. "You must be carefully controlled."

"I'm here, after all these years," said Dakro. "I have that permission. How can I use it?"

"All you have to do is touch the surface. But you must have the specially made gloves. They will act as a conduit for the modifications the raw power of the pool will make in you," said the shade. "Without the gloves, the changes the Geneforge makes will have a random element. You may find yourself without needed internal organs."

"So where can I find a pair of these gloves?" said Dakro.

"I am sorry," repeated the shade. "I am basically a recording of Danette's instructions. I cannot provide analysis of events which have taken place since my creation."

"So, how would the Geneforge be destroyed?" said Dakro.

"You should not. It is the greatest invention of the Shaper people," said the shade. "Its power and promise must not be cast away."

"What if the Shaper council ordered it destroyed?" said Dakro. "How would I obey that?"

"In that case, you could deactivate it with the matching control rod," said the shade. "There was one such rod left on Sucia Island."

Bracing himself, Dakro said, "Where is it?"

"I am sorry. I am basically a recording of Danette's instructions," said the shade. "I cannot provide analysis of events which have taken place since my creation."

Dakro grimaced, having expected that answer, and said, "Where might I find out where it is?"

"Records of the disposition of all major items left on Sucia Island after the Barring were left in Kazg," said the shade.

"Thanks," said Dakro, and he left, finding an old case nearby which held a lot of crumbling trash and a key.

He found the servant mind-the poor creature had been killed, with several javelins sticking out of the body. It looked like the recent work of the sholai.

 _'What fools they are! Did they not know that it was the servant mind's job to keep the creatures controlled and in hibernation? And that control would be lost when the servant mind was slain?'_

Dakro continued searching through the holding cells, wanting to find everything that might help him in his fight against Trajkov, for he knew now that the time was coming close to hand when he would have to face the chief outsider, the one who had first dared take Shaper secrets for himself, the one who was responsible for all that had befallen Dakro during his sojourn on the Barred island of Sucia.


	16. Chapter 15

Dakro checked over his gear, the placement of the false gloves that Goettsch had given him and the placement of the true gloves, the control key, and the entry baton. Everything was in readiness, and he made his way to the door leading to the Geneforge.

He walked into the main presentation hall of the research complex, feeling confident. This was where the most valuable, most exciting creations and inventions had been kept and shown. This was not a ruin. This area was in fact quite active. He could hear the humming of crystals and power spirals, and the growls of creations, and sniff the hint of ozone in the air.

 _'At last-this is the center,'_ he thought. _'Sucia Island's true purpose is here ... and_ _ **my**_ _destiny.'_

Dakro stepped into the main presentation hall. It was a huge stone hall with a high, arched roof. The most significant and impressive developments were given their first viewing here. Even centuries later, the air crackled with magic.

In the center of the room stood a lone figure. He was not a large man. He had visible muscles, but nothing like the charged, augmented behemoths that Dakro had faced in various places on Sucia Isle. His eyes were calm, not arrogant or deranged.

 _'At long last, this must be Trajkov,'_ thought Dakro. _'The leader of these outsiders who invaded our lands and stole our secrets.'_

The man made no move to attack, and simply waved Dakro forward. He apparently had decided to speak with Dakro, unafraid of an attack. Dakro looked at the creations around the perimeter. _'I cannot attack now, the battle would be prolonged, and I might not win. I will have to be on guard and use my wits. This Outsider will never be a match for a Shaper.'_

Dakro came closer, and saw that the augmentation and changes he had received had improved Trajkov, but not controlled him. He was calm, glowing with immense power, all of it at his immediate control.

"I am Trajkov, Shaper. I brought you to this island. I want you to help me. When you hear what I have to say, I believe you will help me. Everything you have done to help or hurt my cause is now forgotten or forgiven," said Trajkov. "Now, at last, we may begin on the path to power and justice. If you will help. Will you hear my story?"

Dakro looked over Trajkov, and said, "Very well."

"There is not much to say, actually. We Sholai are a people of traders, explorers. We sail the seas and find new lands. We were an expedition to cross the great sea, to find out if there was anyone here," said Trajkov. "Harsh weather made us land on this island. And it was here we learned of you, and of your secrets."

"And then you learned as many of those secrets as you could," said Dakro, feeling anger rise again, taking a breath to steady himself.

"Who would not? I could not, despite my efforts, learn your tongue, but others did, and they read your books and learned of you. And they learned how jealous you are," said Trajkov. "They learned that your secrets are not to be shared with anyone. But you are a Shaper. You cannot understand how much a poor outsider can want what you have, you take for granted. So I learned. And we explored. And we came to Geneforge."

"You want to use the Geneforge, yes?" said Dakro.

"Yes. Yes, I do. I will get to my reasons, soon. First, the story. We could not understand your instructions. We could not understand how to use the Geneforge. So I had a plan. I had a Shaper brought here," said Trajkov. "I confess, we kidnapped a Shaper. His name was Goettsch. We brought him here. He gave me some information, and learned some himself. And he betrayed me. And fled. But I still did not know all I needed to know. I needed a new Shaper."

"Me," said Dakro flatly.

"Yes. I need your help if I am to use the Geneforge. You must be asking yourself though, why should I help this outsider become so powerful," said Trajkov. "I have reasons. Will you hear me out?"

"I will listen," said Dakro.

"First, I will appeal to your moral side. You have wandered this island. You have met the serviles. You have seen the things your people have done. I hope you have seen your people with fresh eyes," said Trajkov. "Your people do horrible things, and you have done them for so long, that you have come to see them as normal."

"What are these supposed horrible things we do?" said Dakro.

"Wander this island. See how you have treated, do treat the living things you make. You make living things, capable of thought, reason, pain, and you make them your slaves, destroying them when they displease you," said Trajkov. "The other Sholai, they only care about the wealth and power your secrets give them, but I see the disease beyond. I am moved by the plight of the serviles, and of your creations. I want to end their torment. That is what the power of the Geneforge will give me. I should also say what it will give you."

"Ah yes," said Dakro. "What **is** in it for me?"

"Power. If you help me, I will make you my second in command. I will give you great wealth and power in return for your helping me to get justice," said Trajkov. "You will help me remake the world. And in return, I will give you more than your precious Shapers will ever give you."

"What do you mean by that?" said Dakro, bristling. _'How can I trust him? He forced me here, feeds me smooth lines about making the world better. Him, an outsider-how dare he judge? And that he would not slay me when the deed is done?'_ thought Dakro. _'Every Shaper knows the responsibility that goes with the ability ... these outsiders know nothing of it.'_

"Look around you. This island is Barred! Yes. I know that much about your people. This is forbidden land! Everything you have seen? Secret! And those secrets taint you! Kill me if you want. Destroy the Geneforge if you want. When you return home, you will know too much to be safe. The Shapers want the secrets here buried. They will bury you with them," said Trajkov. "That is my argument. That is my cause. I wish your help. What do you think?"

 _'He is right about one thing, I will know too much ... unless ... yes, but how to get there?'_ thought Dakro. _'I will placate him like the rogues of Vakkiri.'_ The pause had drawn out, and finally Dakro spoke, "Very well, you have persuaded me to help you."

"All right. The first thing I will require from you is your assistance," said Trajkov, pointing to the book beside him. "That book, I believe, contains the instructions to use the Geneforge. Read it and tell me what I must do. But beware. If I ever supect you are trying to trick me, betray me, or slay me, I will destroy you. I will not make the mistake I made with Goettsch again."

Dakro flipped through the book. It had been left behind by the long-ago Shaper researchers here, a collection of notes, equations, schematics, and instructions, all related to the Geneforge. He skimmed, most of the details were irrelevant or too esoteric for him to understand. Finally, he found a reasonably concise and helpful entry toward the end.

 _It is unsure whether we will ever allow one to adopt the mantle of greater being and welcome the changes that the Geneforge will make. Who has the courage to allow themselves to be rewritten, remade?_

 _Should one ever accept the challenge and the danger, they must don the gloves. There are two pairs, though one of them was damaged in an early experiment, and might not be repairable._

 _Donning the gloves, the chosen shall caress the surface of the pool lightly, slowly, letting it work its magic a tiny bit at a time. Speed will be lethal. The body must adjust. Do not, whatever you do, put your hands far in the pool._

 _Then, when the chosen is re-written, the pool may do no more. The changing will be done and no more changing can have any effect. The user may swim in the pool safely, such will be the power._

 _'And so it is good for one person and only one,'_ thought Dakro. _'Goettsch may have read this for him, and it is a test. I shall tell him as it is ... the gloves will be the trick, I do not need another.'_

Dakro looked to Trajkov, and said, "I have read the book. You need to wear the special gloves and run your fingers across the surface of the Geneforge carefully."

"Excellent. That verifies what Goettsch told me earlier. That was a test. I see now that you might, possibly, be trusted. This is what I need from you. This is truly what is required. The book describes the gloves I need to use the Geneforge. Goettsch stole them from me and fled to the wastes on the northwest corner of the island," said Trajkov. "Go there, find Goettsch. Kill him. Recover the gloves. And it will be a victory, for you, for me, and for justice. Here is an amulet. It is a gift from Gnorrel, leader of the Takers. Wear it, and it will mark you to my people as a friend. They will let you pass safely."

"Oh, Goettsch?" said Dakro. "I've slain him."

"I am glad of it. Once you give me the gloves," said Trajkov, "our long, glorious struggle can truly begin."

"I have some gloves," said Dakro, displaying them, "However, the presence of your creations will interfere with the Geneforge."

Trajkov's eyes widened when he saw the gloves. Greed prevented him from thinking too deeply about Dakro's request. "Oh, yes. Of course. Instability. Fine," he said and waved a hand. His creations obediently filed out of the chamber. "Now, give me the gloves."

"Here they are," said Dakro, handing over the gloves that Goettsch had willingly given him.

Trajkov's eyes lit up. "Yes! At last! At last I have them. Hurry! Give them to me!" he said, and then he looked at them and frowned suspiciously. "Wait. Those look different from the original gloves somehow. What trickery is this?"

"Goettsch has cleaned them and done some minor repair work on them," said Dakro smoothly. "That is probably why they look different, but I am sure they are the same gloves, for they were well defended."

Trajkov took the gloves, and said, "At last! After all of the waiting, the gloves are mine. I can use the Geneforge at last!" Trajkov started walking to the east, and said, "Come with me. Come watch my moment of triumph."

As Dakro watched, Trajkov donned the gloves and knelt. Slowly, carefully, reverently, he touched his fingertips to the Geneforge. Dakro watched as the greatest accomplishment of his people began to work its magic on him. But he was wearing the wrong gloves, and by the time he realized it, it was too late. The faulty gloves allowed the substance of the Geneforge to reach his skin too quickly. As Dakro watched, his flesh bubbled and cracked. Trajkov screamed.

Trajkov lurched to his feet and turned toward Dakro, and he stumbled toward him as the changes continued. His bones bent, and his hair fell out. His skin peeled off in sheets. He reached for his sword, but his hand was no longer strong enough to grasp it. Then he fell to the ground at Dakro's feet, dead at last. Trajkov's body dissolved into a frothy pink goo.

"Justice," said Dakro, and he kicked the sword free of the goo. "Justice for the thief, at last."

Dakro stepped over the pink goo and looked. There before him was the result of all the labors, the ingenuity, the genius of Sucia Island. It was the great accomplishment of the Shapers here-it was the Geneforge.

 _'It doesn't look like much,'_ he thought, _'if I didn't know, I would never have guessed.'_

It was a pool of swirling, bitter-smelling muck, kept alive and well mixed by several unstable power spirals. It looked like the substance in the augmenting canisters Dakro had found scattered over the island, but the canisters had been made with special attachments to control the flow of the goop-this was bare and exposed. It glowed with barely restrained magical power-awesomely powerful, but also very dangerous.

Dakro stared into the swirling goo of the Geneforge. The energy of the power spirals kept the organic material alive and in constant motion. It bubbled, hissed, and steamed, waiting for him to act. Dakro knelt before the pool of Geneforge, and continued to stare.

 _'Our ancestors discovered this, but they were not careful in how they used it ... they destroyed the land, and nearly themselves, fleeing from the ills unleashed by improper use of the power,'_ thought Dakro. _'And then my people came here, and discovered the same knowledge, discovered how to control it ... and were stopped. One thing Trajkov said is true, no matter what I do, I will be accounted tainted by my time on Sucia. Unless I have power that ... unless I have the power that will make me a god to the Shapers, just as we Shapers are to our creations. I will have that power if I use the Geneforge.'_

Dakro got the gloves out and placed them between himself and the pool. _'But the power has made everyone mad who came close to it ... Will I be safe from the madness? Can I do better than my ancestors? Of course I can! For I will learn from the mistakes I have seen on Sucia. My reign will be enlightened, a glorious era of justice, of peace ...'_

Dakro put the gloves on. Then he looked at the creations that had traveled with him during his adventures on the island. _'I will make new and better creations afterwards,'_ he thought. And with that, by the power of his will, he reabsorbed his creations, and was alone before the pool of the Geneforge.

He thought for another moment, the moment of no return, and reached out and touched the goo. At that moment, it began to fulfill its purpose. It shot through his skin and inside him. It sought out the tiny instructions deep within him and began to rewrite them, one at a time. The heat slowly crawled through his body.

 _'The pain! They did not mention the pain!'_ thought Dakro. Fortunately, the gloves controled the process. They merged with the substance, drawing it up into tiny tubes so that only the tiniest bits of it contacted him at any one time. Dakro felt his parts changing-his arms, his heart, elsewhere. It seemed to go on for a very long time. He was rewritten, and then after a pause of adjustment, re-written again. At last the process ended.

 _'I am a new class of person, far above and beyond the mere pitiful mortals I have now left behind,'_ thought Dakro. _'It is time to leave this island, to return to my people and show them what I have become. And then I shall decide what to do with them.'_

Dakro turned to go, and then he stopped, and turned back to the power spirals. _'It should never do for others to find this intact,'_ thought Dakro.

The spiral had done surprisingly well, surviving the time of neglect, but it was highly unstable and occasionally shuddered in a worrisome manner, but it remained intact and fed power to the Geneforge. It had no controls or accessible parts, the only feature on the smooth surface a slot. Dakro took his control rod and slid it into the slot.

The control rod fit the hole perfectly. There was a hissing, grinding noise. The spiral went dark. Then cracks appeared on the surface. Organic goo began to leak out of the cracks and oozed all over the floor.

Dakro repeated the process with the other three spirals, and returned to the center to stare into the swirling goo. It was no longer charged, but it was still intact, and it would be years before the stuff died to render it no longer usable. The pool bubbled, hissed and steamed, and Dakro seized a hammer and smashed its edge.

It had taken a number of heavy blows, but he managed to smash the edge of the pool. The goo inside began to run out, and it hissed where it touched the stone. The rest went out of balance, and it died, shrinking into dust before Dakro's eyes, and he smiled.

 _'From this moment, nobody will ever use the Geneforge,'_ thought Dakro. _'When I am ready to appoint a successor, I will rebuild, but for now ... It is time to leave. The danger is gone. I will be the only person to ever use the Geneforge.'_

Knowing now where the docks were, Dakro entered an isolated grassy cove. It was a green and pleasant place. To the east, the ground sloped gently downward to a crumbling cluster of buildings on the shore. From his vantage point, Dakro could just barely see the stone docks extending into the water. It was far easier to see the boat-a small craft, only about twenty feet long. More worrisome, the guards patrolling the area, and the mines that had been placed to block the way to these docks. Concentrating, as he looked at the foes, Dakro brought into being a trio of cyrodrayks, smiling at the ease with which these creatures now came into being.

 _'Just for this fight. The boat will be enough for me, but not for these creations. I will not make the mistake of Danette, Corata, and Defniel. I will not leave my creations behind on this isle. I will return later to deal with the rogues and the Obeyers,'_ thought Dakro.

He could see human guards, but could not make out details, other than the large number of them. Of more immediate importance were the mines blocking the pathway between Dakro and the docks. All the sensors were pointing at him.

 _'They seem to have been made to target Shapers especially,'_ thought Dakro, as he noticed the stripes on each. _'Very well, I shall have to disarm them before proceeding. It should be a shame for one such as I to be brought low by a simple mine field.'_

Using the captured batons, taking care to note the differing colors of stripes upon the mines, Dakro disarmed the fields and proceeded across the grassy field, where his advance was noticed by the sholai. Alarms rang, and Dakro cast his spells to give speed and increased power to his creations, unleashing the powers of the mighty reaper baton and his creations, healing whenever the sholai's blows fell true. The battle was fierce, but even these augmented sholai were no match for the power of Dakro, and they were soon felled. Finding the servant mind had been tortured, he fed the mind and healed it, charging it with maintaining control over the area surrounding the docks until Dakro's return.

Dakro then went to the docks. At the end of the dock, he found the small wooden sailboat with several pairs of oars. It was too small for his creations, and he turned to them and reabsorbed them.

Only a single loop of rope held the boat to the dock. Dakro boarded the boat, and released the rope. He grabbed an oar, and pushed away from the dock. Dakro had never sailed on such a boat before, but while physically somewhat challenging, the task of erecting the mast and figuring out the sails was a simple matter. Soon, Sucia Island began to recede into the distance.


	17. Epilogue

Learning to steer the craft was not particularly difficult, though Dakro sorely wished there had been room to put a thahd aboard the boat with him, just so he would not have to manage the oars and the sails. Steadily, though, he began to move toward the mainland. Despite the feel of remoteness, it proved that the island was not as remote as Dakro had thought. It was only fifty miles from the nearest Shaper settlement-fifty miles and two centuries. It took but a day for Dakro to arrive at the coastal settlement of Dillame.

In Dillame, there were a dozen Shapers there, working to tame the wild coast, populate it with friendly fauna and make it safe for settlement. They eagerly greeted Dakro, curious about where he had come from with such a peculiar craft.

"I have been on Sucia Isle," said Dakro.

Jonas, the leader of this group looked worried, and said, "You must come with us to the regional capital then, that you can answer for your actions."

"You do not understand. Much happened to me on the island," said Dakro. "I know great secrets, and the Geneforge has given me great power."

There was a mumbling amongst the other Shapers, Dakro heard them say "madness". Dakro felt anger rise within him again. Clearly, they were frightened by his changed appearance and obvious power.

Two of them came at Dakro with shackles, meaning to put them on him.

Dakro was furious. For a moment, he stood on a knife's edge, deciding between sparing them and slaying them. _'this is not right'_ A moment later, he felt a small twinge, the still small voice fell silent, he spread his hands, and the power flowed out.

The small settlement had been no match for Dakro's rage. It was rubble in minutes. Dakro found the library, learned the secrets he had not learned on the isle, used essence pools to regain strength.

 _'That damned Outsider was right. I know now what will happen. They will never accept me, never accept this power. Too long have they believed themselves gods to accept that I am now a god amongst gods. The fools, the small-minded ones, they will fear me, they will never let me have peace,'_ thought Dakro. _'No matter, the world is young, there are many unsettled areas, areas where I can create my own domain, lands which will benefit from my wisdom, flourish under my control.'_

Dakro waved his hand again, and an army of fierce creations began to appear. Then, he set off into the wild lands to the north.

The finest flowering of the powerful arts of the Shapers took place on Sucia Island. The Shapers could not, however, control the power they created. They tried to harness it, then they tried to hide it, then they tried to forget it. Then it came back to haunt them.

Eventually, in Shaper lands, the tumult caused by the rediscovery of the Geneforge died down. There was an uneasy truce with the near-divine Dakro, who did not attack them, absorbed as he was in the creation of new forms of life. But now the secrets and potential were known. Even after it was gone, people knew that it could be. The story grew quiet, but did not end.

The bell could not be un-rung.


End file.
